The Flight That Made Me Cry: A Traveler’s Tale

At first glance, this photo looks like a pretty normal shot that I took during a flight: clouds, blue sky, a wing, and somewhere far below, the islands of the Philippines.

What you cannot see is me behind the camera, wearing the mask and face shield required on that journey—and crying with happiness.

This was my first flight during the COVID pandemic. I had just left Davao City for Manila, and from there I would continue all the way to Frankfurt. After more than a year, I was finally on my way to see my mother again.

The long wait to see my mother

The months before that flight had been filled with uncertainty. Like so many people around the world, we kept asking the same questions: when could we see our loved ones, cross borders and make plans without wondering whether the rules would change again?

With family so far away, being unable to fly felt like being trapped.

Then my mother got sick.

Suddenly all the fears about travelling during the pandemic became less important. I knew I had to go. I had to fly, no matter how complicated it was, no matter how many documents, tests, rules, masks, shields, and worries stood in the way.

But then she felt a little better and asked me to stay in the Philippines for the moment. I was grateful she was improving, but waiting was still hard.

A few months later, I finally made it. This was that flight.

Back in the air, behind a face shield

Boarding felt different from the familiar excitement of a holiday flight. Masks, face shields and the crew’s protective clothing made the cabin feel unfamiliar. The ordinary act of taking a seat on a plane had acquired a surprising amount of preparation and worry.

But then we took off.

Then Davao grew smaller below us. Beyond the wing were clouds, blue sky and the Philippine islands. It was the kind of view I had photographed before, but this time the meaning was different. Every kilometre was taking me closer to my mother.

After months of fear, lockdowns, restrictions, bad news, and separation, I was in the air again. I was moving again. I was going home, or at least to the place where my mother was waiting.

And that was when the tears came.

Nobody could see them. The mask and face shield hid everything. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe that was one small advantage of this strange pandemic travel outfit. I could sit there quietly, looking out of the window, crying my private tears of relief, gratitude, fear, and happiness. The flight crew seemed more like doctors and nurses in an ER than regular flight attendants.

More than a wing and some clouds

It was not just a flight from Davao to Manila.

It was the end of waiting. It was the beginning of seeing my mother again. It was proof that even in a time when the world felt closed, there was still a way forward.

To anyone else, it might just show clouds and a wing.

To me, it shows the moment I started to breathe again.

The feeling of being far from family returns in The Hardest Journey. Later, I wrote about bringing my mother to the Philippines and saying goodbye. These photographs belong to an earlier chapter, when the important thing was finally being on my way to her.