Finally reaching America was surreal, an indescribable mélange of pure excitement and equally anxiety. It felt well deserved after working strenuous shifts at the rundown hospital in Leyte, my hometown. Never again would I have to scurry around emptying full bedpans every few minutes because there was not enough for the numerous patients who filled the beds. With shifty lighting overhead and the worried, tired demands of my overseers. I had made it to America, the land where the streets were once paved with gold and I could start my new life with my soon to be husband, Nereo Lirios. It was a long journey, a constant ebb and flow of being together or separated but we were each other’s support system and worked through the tough times together.
As a young girl my early education was cut short when the Second World War broke out; I was only able to finish out our first year of high school before the schools closed down. During those trifling times where everyone just seemed to be hiding from trouble, Nereo was obliged to join the Philippine Scouts, a military unit composed of Filipinos assigned to the United States Army Philippine Department under General MacArthur.
When the war was finally over and the Philippines were liberated finished my schooling, as did Nereo. We fatefully had one class together. His family was poverty stricken, mine wasn’t much better off but he couldn’t even afford the books required for class. I remember meeting the tan, extroverted young man from Tanauan a town near my own town. Ironically, I was not overwhelmed by my first impression of him. Because of the large class sizes there was never enough seats for all the students, so it was first come first serve. We approached the last seat at the same time and you would expect a respectable gentlemen to give up the seat to a nice young lady, but he was stubborn. Luckily, he proved himself in the years to follow. I started sharing my books with him and he did more than demonstrate his kind-hearted nature.
My mother was a single parent raising three girls; my father had left us to return to China when I was still very young. Due to this matriarchal upbringing I grew up wary of men, another reason why I wasn’t very taken with Nereo’s advances at first. He would walk me home every day though despite the distance from his own home. Not only that, he would spend time around my house offering to do any heavy yard work or chores which my mother needed help with. I can still envision him pounding the rice behind our house; it was one of the toughest jobs but he was willing to do it. It wasn’t long before I recognized how genuinely caring he was.
After finishing out our final three years in high school, we were separated by the pressing responsibilities that accompanied adult life, as young as we were. I picked up a local teaching job at the primary school for three years, while Nereo continued his career with the Scouts. Eventually, I decided to pursue a career in nursing and Nereo and I spent our second but not last time apart because he was in Manila picking up any work he could find.
Our paths didn’t cross again until three years later, after I had finished nursing school and returned home to work in a rundown hospital. He was awaiting his application status from the United States Navy. After his dedication to the Scouts he of course was accepted into the navy, and was notified that he would be attending training camp in San Diego. Despite my joy for his achievement, I couldn’t ignore the overwhelming pain which consumed me because my love was being sent to the opposite side of the Pacific Ocean.
We managed to hold ourselves together while apart with the hopes that I could eventually join him. There was just as high of a demand for nurses in America so I was almost guaranteed a job, but being the first of the family to move to the States was of course a daunting journey. I applied for a job at a hospital in Chicago, Illinois; the contract I signed entailed a year of work under that hospital and in exchange they would grant me a visa. After three years more years of hard work and emotional strain we both collectively had the money for a plane ticket for me.
I knew then, ignoring the fear which tied a labyrinth of knots in my stomach, that this was undoubtedly my next step. With tears stinging my eyes I hugged my sisters and my mother goodbye and boarded a boat to Manila. Then, I took a plane for the first time in my life. I arrived in Alaska, greeted by an unfamiliar, chilling wind which the habitually summery climate of the Philippines hadn’t prepared me for. To my surprise though the only people I seemed to run in to during my brief layover were Filipinos! I was expecting to meet only eskimos, a small comfort which warmed my frozen self. My next and thankfully final stop before Chicago was Seattle, Washington. From there I gratefully and anxiously boarded a plane to Illinois. I stepped out of the airport and found Nereo awaiting me with our close friend from home Trinidad and the Vice Filipino Consult who provided me transportation to the hospital I would be working at.
We were finally able to get married, I still remember walking to the courthouse in a simple, light blue dress and beside him in a tan blazer. We had to save our money so we didn’t have rings at the time, but our love need not be represented by such material assets. Our time together was once again too brief to fully enjoy because Nereo’s residence in any place was transient; he went wherever the Navy sent him.
So again, our time spent together sat in the recesses of my brain, a bittersweet memory. I revisited the happiness from the time we were together but longed to be with him again. After only three months under my contract I grew tired and crumbled under my overwhelming loneliness. I was after all alone in a country foreign to me; drowning amongst a sea of strangers. So, impulsively I quit my job and moved to Key West, Florida, where Nereo was stationed. It is there that the Lirios family truly began.
