It’s been a week since Thursday came crashing down on us with the news we didn’t want to hear, refused.
No student permit.
No open work permit.
No Canada stamp for this month.
Even as I type these words, my heart feels heavy. I thought that after a few days I would be able to shake it off, but the truth is. I still can’t get over it. And so can’t Elaiza.
We held on to that hope like a lifeline, imagining the day we’d finally be packing our bags, kissing Davao goodbye, and stepping into Toronto’s crisp air ready to start anew. But instead, we were met with silence and a letter that reminded us how fragile dreams can be.
The Sadness That Lingers
Refusals aren’t just about papers and stamps. They’re about the weight of plans.
We had already built stories in our minds, walking down the streets of Toronto, me starting my MBA, and Elaiza beginning her career journey on an open work permit. We imagined late-night coffees in a foreign city, struggles that we would face hand in hand, and the victories we would one day tell our future children about.
But in one refusal letter, all those moving pictures suddenly froze.
Since then, both Elaiza and I have been stuck in the “what ifs.”
What if I had written my SOP differently?
What if the officer had seen things the way we hoped?
What if this dream is too big for us?
I know in my heart that what-ifs are heavy luggage. They drag you down if you let them. But we’re only human, and when you’ve put your heart, soul, and savings into something, it’s not so easy to just brush it off.
Thinking About What’s Next
Here in Davao City, our home feels both comforting and confining. Sometimes, it feels like a cocoon that keeps us safe, but sometimes it also feels like a cage.
That’s why Elaiza and I have been thinking, maybe we’ll move out. Maybe Cebu City with its blend of progress and calm. Or Manila, with its chaos but also its endless opportunities. We’re weighing our choices, hoping to find where we might feel lighter while waiting for the next chapter.
Elaiza has been thinking about her future, too. She plans to find a job by January 2026. She wants to start building again while we wait, because she knows as much as I do that we can’t put life on pause for too long.
And me? I decided to reapply, this time, as a single applicant. It’s bittersweet, but sometimes in order to move forward, we have to carry the dream differently. The plan is still Canada. The hope is still there. Just another way, another path.
Lessons From Refusal
Here’s what this painful chapter is teaching me:
Failure is part of the journey.
As Winston Churchill said, “Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”Couples don’t just share joy; they share heartbreak.
Sitting beside Elaiza while she cried, I realized that this dream was never just mine, it was ours. And when one is hurt, both bleed.Resilience is built in silence.
No one sees the nights we lie awake. No one hears the whispered prayers. But resilience isn’t loud, it’s stitched in these unseen moments.Dreams worth having are dreams worth fighting for.
Canada might have said “not yet,” but it hasn’t said “never.” And until that day comes, we keep moving, keep adjusting, keep believing.
A Letter to the Dreamers
To those who dream of Canada, whether you’re a single student clutching your acceptance letter, a couple hoping to start a new life, a family envisioning a fresh beginning, or partners in love like Elaiza and I, this is for you.
Dear Dreamer,
The road will not always be smooth. Sometimes, it will feel like you’ve been told “no” a thousand different ways. Sometimes, you’ll wonder if it’s even worth it. You’ll cry over papers. You’ll overthink every little detail. You’ll feel the sting of “refused.”
But hear this: a refusal does not define your worth, nor does it erase your dream.
Canada is not just a destination. It is a symbol of hope, of new beginnings, of resilience. And if your heart still beats for it, then keep going. Adjust your plan. Rewrite your letter. Try again.
Because at the end of the day, the only true refusal is when you stop believing.
With you in this journey,
Jhon Vianie N. Bandija
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I don’t know what the next months will look like. Maybe Cebu. Maybe Manila. Maybe Canada. What I do know is this: we are still moving forward.
For now, I hold on to this truth:
“When life shuts a door, stop banging on it. Trust that whatever is behind it is not meant for you. Something better is waiting.”
Elaiza and I may feel sad today, but tomorrow? Tomorrow we try again.
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