So here is Part 2 of my next installment to Horizontal Sisterhood. Still the background to where I am getting but an important lead-up in terms of how we felt, in regards to how we feel now. I cried when I read this out to my peers at an ABC writing workshop more than ready to be the mother I knew I was meant to be. The rest of the room cried too and felt every emotion that went into the story. This is Nov/Dec 2013.
We are connected
By Asanempoka · 2 min read · From 500 Words: One Moment, This Year
I opened my eyes and sat up in bed. Not quite awake, I unlocked my mobile phone and checked my email. I scanned, I read, I screamed. My husband bolted upright next to me. I looked at him and squealed, ‘He can come!’
We have a son. But we’d left him in Ghana eight months earlier. He was to continue living with his maternal grandparents and go to school until we could bring him to live with us in Australia, until the government said, ‘Yes’.
My heart was torn into tiny pieces leaving him there, so I deliberately left a few of the pieces with him. He was safe, of that there was no doubt, but I desperately wanted us all to be together. I wanted to be a part of his daily life. I wanted to be the woman who influences his life choices.
I wanted him to grow up, not just in rural Ghana, but in the wider world. It feels to me that somehow only I can give him that. I wanted to have him live with us so he can be a brother to his sister, a son to his father, and MY son. We will be able to be family the way we believe we are destined to be.
Whether he’d be allowed to come or not was out of my control. This was difficult for me to accept. I had to shut it out and go about my daily life, but it always crept in each night when we prayed together before dinner. We prayed for him to come soon, knowing that on the other side of the world he was doing the same.
2013 has been ‘The Year of Waiting’ for all of us. It has felt like we have all been travelling in parallel lines and the distance is not getting any closer, even though days are passing. Often I have felt like Vladimir waiting for Godot, or a young girl at a train station with a tiny suitcase waiting for the love of her life to come and sweep her off her feet.
Nevertheless, my son is real. I have heard him breathe, held him, laughed with him and sung with him. I have watched him dance. I told him the day we left Ghana, ‘You will come to us love, we just don’t know when. It may be more than a year. Stay strong and know we love you.’ He couldn’t understand all my words but I know he got the drift of it. We are connected.
It is the end of the year now and my husband has just left to go and bring him to his new family home in Australia. His visa has been granted. They will return in January ready for the new school year. All three of us, my husband, our daughter and I, are excitedly anticipating his arrival. At times it’s overwhelming, as I feel those parallel lines begin to merge. Soon they will intersect.
However, I can’t tell that story today because that is one moment for next year.