8 months

So now it's been 8 months since Jose has been detained.  I don't have any major updates on either case.  Our attorney is working on trying to get the state to help us vacate Jose's old case.  Meanwhile I've been working with immigrant groups.  I was invited to the Chicago Bar Association Human Rights Committee meeting last month to tell our story and what mandatory detention is doing to our family.  I think I did an ok job.  Everyone looked kinda depressed when I was done.

Jose's next immigration court date is Jan 11.  I went to see him yesterday, he had asked not to take Cairo because Cairo gets angry and doesn't talk to him or let me talk to him, so we decided that I'd take him every other week for now.  The focus of our conversation this time was planning out what to pack up for Jose if he is deported.  He requested I buy him some cloths, shoes and money to take to him that day.  It was like I was stabbing myself every time I said "si....si....si".  He's right, we have to be prepared for the worst and the worst is that he will be deported and forever be banned from the country.  What would happen after that? I don't know.  My Aunt is here visiting from Mexico and to be quite honest she's freaking me out.  If we were to move to Mexico, our option is Monterrey.  That is where all my family is, it's a big city (unlike where Jose is from) and we'd be able to find work...we hope...and the quality of life would not be too dramatic.  Of course it will be different, there's no denying that, but the roads are paved, there are grocery stores and schools and we'd have a washer and dryer somewhere.

Cairos anxiety is getting worse.  He's started to draw blood from ripping his nails off.  I've given him paper to tear and my friend is getting a bunch of anxiety balls for him but the paper is not helping.  When ever he's idle, in between choosing what toy to play with or watching TV or in the bathroom, he's there ripping his nails off.  I was hoping going to therapy and finally being able to see Jose would slow it down but it hasn't.  Cairo is just as angry as he was in the beginning.  He actually yelled at Jose the last time we went to see him.

I keep planning out in my head what our options are to live in Mexico.  I am not fond of what is going on down there now.  My family has quite frankly freaked me out. If we move, we'd be moving to Monterrey.  10 years ago I would have been all gun hoe about moving but now, I must admit, I'm concerned.  Jose would stay there with my family. We figure there will be a better opportunity for him to find a job there, in the big city rather than in the dirt road rancho he's from...but then what?  I know it's all doable but I'm a planner and a thinker, it sucks because that holds me back sometimes.  Will he and I be able to find jobs?  Should we try setting up a business?  What kind of business?  Will we make enough to give Cairo a decent life?  What about Cairos school?  What about the violence?  Is it really that bad?  Where would we live?  What if we have more kids?  How will Cairo deal with the change?   How long will it take for us to sell the house and move? I go over these things, over and over again....I compare my job now, where I make a decent living and have benefits, to ...... what?

I'm scared.  I'm scared of the unknown and not knowing what direction this is all going.

Life on pause

As each day passes it feels like our lives are on pause.  The world hustles and bustles all around us.  People going here and there, living, laughing and loving.  Women are having babies, couples are getting married.  It's happy times for most.  Men and women in a rush to get their kids to school and to work on time.  Children playing in the park while their parents watch on.  The world continues to spin on it's axis.  Day and night come and go.  As life goes on for others our lives are like this misty, stagnant fog in the center.  It doesn't quite move, it lacks color and emotion.  It doesn't move forward in great leaps but moves at a crawl when forced to.

I'm envious of those people who complain about their significant others.  How I wish to have those small and meaningless arguments about laundry and whose turn it is to wash the dishes.  If only I can pick a fight with Jose about why he insists on not moving over the extra inch to place the fork inside the sink rather than next to it.  Oh what I'd give to be able to hold his hand or hear his voice at lunch time asking how to make dinner for that night.  What I wouldn't give to call him only to find out he's at the park with Cairo and they haven't done homework yet.  I do anything to be able to come home to the biggest mess in the kitchen made by him and Cairo attempting to make something they saw on T.V.

Living life without him is just not the same.  Going to bed at night, waking up the in the morning, grocery shopping, weekends at home, evenings at the park...none of it, it's just not the same without my Gordo.  So far Jose has been absent for:

• his own birthday
• the end of spring
• a first communion
• Cairos last day of kindergarten
• my brothers birthday
• my birthday
• Cairos birthday
• my sister-in-laws birthday
• a friends baby's first birthday party
• a block party
• Cairos first day of 1st grade
• Cairo joining the Cub Scouts
• all summer
• a baptism
• several school events
• the beginning of fall

He's going to miss Halloween, going to the Circus, my cousins visit and most likely Thanksgiving.  I can only pray that he's home by Christmas.  To the outside world it looks like we are care free, with out any problems.  If you take a closer look you'll see a wife and son who are, as Cairo so well put it, crying on the inside.

Our lives are on pause and I all I want to do is hit the reset button.

Cairos Burden

Every day Cairo opens my eyes to how receptive he is and how much of this situation he is bearing on his shoulders.  The things he says can be very difficult to hear.  Not too long ago it was picture day at school.  He was very angry at having to take his picture.  He kept saying he didn't want to take his picture.  I didn't really understand why he was so upset.  A couple days ago an order form, from the photographer, came home saying "It's not too late to order!!", along with it came the wadded up order form that was supposed to be sent with Cairo on picture day.  I asked Cairo why he didn't bring the first form home.  He said he didn't bring it home because he didn't want me buying pictures, pictures cost money and we need all our money for his papi to come home.  It all made sense.  Around the same time a little girl told him she's give him a dollar to cut in line.  He took the dollar and let her cut.  He came home with the dollar saying it was a good deal because we need more dollars for his papi.  Last week as we were on our way to therapy he asked me what he could do to help his papi.  I told him the most important thing he can do is pray for him to come back.  I told him it was a job that only special people can do.  These moments give me a glimpse of the enormous burden he is carrying around every day.   He's six, he shouldn't be carrying that burden, Cairo shouldn't be worried about money or his dad.  Needless to say the dollar went back to the little girl and I ordered his school pictures.

All I want to do is lift this burden from him.  The messed up part is I can carry only so much myself. 

It's like my dad's dead

I recently wrote our states attorney for help with Jose's case.  I included how we met, why we divorced and the kind of family we are today.  I also added how this whole situation is affecting Cairo. The therapy, nail tearing, binge eating, crying, angry outbursts and the constant questions about his return...

"When is my daddy coming home?"

"Why is it taking so long?"

"I can't wait anymore, when will he be here?"

"Why won't the police let him go?"

"Is my papi a bad person?"

The day before I sent the letter out I decided to add his most recent statement to the letter.  I felt that it was appropriate.  We were on our way home and it was getting dark outside. We were listening to music, it was a pretty quite drive. Then Cairo blurted out "Mom, It's like my dad's dead, but he's not because I talk to him on the phone".  He hit the nail on the head.  I feel the same way but never vocalized it. I never imagined that he, at 6 years old, would associate his dad being in jail with him being dead. I wanted to break down and cry.  It comes to show that just because kids are quiet at times, it doesn't mean those gears are not furiously turning. It also shows that in the end, all this immigration shit, kids are the ones who ultimately suffer the most.