On December 31st, while many around the world embrace, reflect, and anticipate, Cubans face a more poignant reality. As clocks tick down to the new year, this day becomes a bittersweet ritual for countless Cuban families.
For millions in Cuba, New Year's Eve is not just a celebration—it's an open wound. Families are torn apart, separated by miles and held together only by phones that sometimes don't ring or ring too late, when excitement has already mingled with exhaustion. Mothers, fathers, siblings, children, grandparents, and grandchildren experience this night apart, yearning for connection.
Tables are set, yet they remain incomplete. Many of these meals exist because of absence. It's thanks to the son who left, the mother who emigrated, the father working far away, and the brother supporting loved ones from abroad. Toasts are made in their honor, but their empty seats remind everyone of the steep cost paid in nostalgia, tears, distance, and nights like this.
This night, the phone becomes more crucial than the clock. Lines get overwhelmed, signals falter, and the year's most significant moment turns into a waiting game. Hugs are replaced by fragmented voices, frozen images, and painful "we'll talk tomorrow" farewells. Yet, even this is appreciated because it’s better than knowing nothing at all.
This is the harsh reality for Cubans, where absence keeps households afloat, love travels via remittances, packages, and limited phone minutes, and distance is not an anomaly, but the rule. Each family has its unique story, yet all share the same profound ache.
Mothers smile to hide worry, fathers remain silent to stay strong, children grow resilient too soon, grandparents wait quietly, and grandchildren grow up not understanding why hugs are missing on special days. This pain is distributed across generations.
Despite the heartache, Cubans refuse to give up. They toast even through the pain, celebrate despite the missing faces, and continue to dream—not because reality makes it easy, but because surrender has never been part of their history.
Let’s hope 2026 brings more than just a change in numbers. May it be the year when absences are no longer necessary, when tables fill with people instead of silence. Until that day arrives, Cubans will keep enduring, wounded yet standing, clinging to a stubborn hope that refuses to die.
May 2026 return the missing embraces, the dignity we deserve, and the hope that was never truly extinguished.
The Cuban New Year's Reality
Why is New Year's Eve particularly difficult for Cubans?
New Year's Eve is challenging for many Cubans because it highlights the separation of families caused by migration and economic necessity. While others celebrate, many Cuban families are reminded of loved ones who are absent, often due to the need to seek opportunities abroad.
How do Cuban families cope with the separation?
Cuban families cope with separation by relying on phone calls, remittances, and packages. These connections, though limited, help maintain relationships across distances and provide financial support to those remaining in Cuba.