The morning sun shimmered on the calm sea as Rolando leaned on the rail of the ship, his eyes fixed on the endless horizon. It had been fifteen years since he first stepped aboard as a young deckhand a simple man from Iloilo with nothing but courage, determination, and the dream of giving his family a better life.
Back home, he was known as Lando, a quiet man who loved the ocean but feared the cost of chasing a dream across it. He came from a fishing village where almost every young man dreamed of becoming a seafarer. But unlike others, Lando had one thing that kept him going through the waves of loneliness his family.
Rolando’s journey began when he was twenty-three. His father was sick, and his mother was selling vegetables in the market to make ends meet. He was newly married to Teresa, and they had a one-year old baby girl, Maria.
When he first got his deployment papers, Teresa held his hands and said softly, kaya mo yan, Lando. Para sa atin to. He nodded, hiding the fear behind his smile.
The first voyage took him to Singapore, then to Europe. The sea became his second home sometimes calm and peaceful, sometimes wild and terrifying. Days blended into nights, and months stretched into years. The sound of engines replaced the sound of laughter at home.
While his hands learned to manage the ropes and controls of a cargo ship, his heart learned to manage distance the hardest part of being an OFW seafarer.
Communication was scarce in the early years. Internet on board was limited, and phone calls were expensive. Every time they docked at a port, Rolando would rush to buy a prepared card just to call home.
Papa, when are you coming home? Maria would ask in her small voice. Soon, anak. Papa’s working hard so you can go to school, he would reply, swallowing the lump in his throat.
He missed birthdays, anniversaries, and Christmases. There were times he wanted to quit, especially when he saw families together while he stood alone under foreign skies. But the thought of his daughter’s future gave hi strength.
Every payday, he sent money back home. Teresa used it wisely she started a small sari-sari store and paid for Maria’s tuition. Bit by bit, their life improved, though it came with the price of separation.
Life at sea was not easy. One fateful night, their ship was caught in a typhoon while crossing the Pacific Ocean. Giant waves slammed against the hull as the ship rocked violently. The crew scrambled to secure the cargo while thunder roared above.
Rolando held onto the railing, whispering a prayer. Lord, please, let me see my family again.
After hours of chaos, the storm finally passed. They survived shaken but grateful.
back in his cabin, Rolando stared at his daughter’s photo taped to the wall. For you, anak, he whispered. Papa will come home soon.
But storms didn’t only exist in the ocean. Months later, he received a message from home Teresa had fallen ill. The doctor said she needed surgery. Rolando tried to request an early vacation, but the company couldn’t release him yet.
He felt helpless thousands of miles away, unable to hold his wife’s hand. The guilt haunted him every night.
When he finally returned home, Teresa was recovering, but thinner and weaker. You’re home, she said, smiling faintly. He hugged her tightly, promising never to b gone for so long again.
Years went by, and Maria grew into a young woman. She graduated from college with honors, taking up Maritime Engineering inspired by her father’s sacrifices. During her graduation, she said, Papa, this is your victory, not just mine.
Those words erased every tear and sleepless night at sea.
Rolando continued to work, now as a chief mate, training younger seafarers who looked up to him. Sir, why do you still sail after all these years? one of them asked.
He smiled and said, Because every wave reminds me of why I started for my family.
Yet as his hair turned gray and his steps slowed, he knew it was time to let go of the sea and start a new chapter on land.
After more than two decades, Rolando finally retired. His savings and remittances had built a small two-story house in Iloilo the fruit of years of sacrifices.
The day he came home for good, the entire neighborhood welcomed him. Teresa, now healthy again, stood at the gate with tears in her eyes, Maria, now working in a shipping company, embraced him tightly. Papa, it’s your turn to rest, she said.
For the first time in years, Rolando woke up not to the sound of ship alarms but to the laughter of his family. He helped his wife in their store, tended a small garden, and spent afternoons watching the sea no longer as a sailor, but as a man finally at peace.
One evening, as the sun set over the horizon, Rolando sat by the shore with Maria. The waves danced before them, golden under the fading light.
Papa, Maria asked softly, do you miss the sea? He smiled. Every day. But I’ve already found my harbor.
She looked at him curiously. Where? Rolando pointed to his heart. Right here with my family.
They sat in silence, listening to the rhythm of the waves the same rhythm that once carried his dreams across the world.
Rolando’s story is one shared by countless OFWs people who give up their own comfort so their loved once can have a better tomorrow.
His journey reminds us that an OFW’s sacrifice is not measured by distance or time, but by love and resilience.
Behind every remittance sent home is a story of courage, behind every absence a promise, and behind every wave a dream that no storm can ever drown.
And as Rolando always said, The sea may take you far, but love will always bring you home.
