In just over a week we will be remembering a very important day. That day, February 25th, will be 10 months since my husband left. Wow...almost a year already. It's been such a hard year and a few things stand out in my mind the most:
1. April 25, 2007- arrive at immigration office. He goes into a meeting and never comes back out. They took him off to jail while he waited to be deported. My son and I sat in the waiting room in shock.
2. Months of hour long drives(each way) just to look at him on a video monitor for 20 minutes.
3. Middle of July '07-moved him to another jail closer to home. Trying to get him closer to the airport I suppose. This jail was disgusting. We were treated like the famliy of murderers, which many were and could only see him a few times a week even though he was so close.
4. August 9, 2007-phone calls from unknown numbers start early in the morning. I ignored the calls until I couldnt take it anymore. It was him. He was back at the immigration office and was leaving that day. I talked to him for one hour(a call which cost $150 btw) and by 1pm he was gone. I didnt' speak to him until two days later when he was in algiers.
5. Present-still nothing going on in his case. No interview date set. I feel as though we are stuck in the same place. We are no closer to him coming home than we were 10 months ago and that is so frustrating.
Thinking about that little summary makes me want to crawl in my bed and cry. I haven't had a breakdown in quite a few months. Once I start crying, I find it extremely hard to stop. My chest hurts and I can't breathe. I occasionally cry a few tears to friends**, but I'm left fealing even more alone. My pain often times turns into complaints about their own lives. I'm dealing with the most trying experience of my life and I feel so alone. I've tried to reach out to others in their times of need, but it leaves me pissed because it makes me realize even more how little they care about me.
One sister called every week to check on me, but even she has stopped. My husband's friends threw some money at us 8 months ago. The money is gone and so are they. I get the feeling that I'm forgotten because I'm american. I've even been told that I was raised differently so it's easy. I'm american and this is the US what's the problem. I've also been reminded that my mom is here so I should be thankful.... I guess by here she meant in the US, but that doesn't do me much good considering she is 1400 miles away. I've also been told I should be happy he's an ocean away. My pain has been ignored and I have been forgotten about. I don't expect people to drop everything they are doing to help me, but I do expect a litle bit of concern and compassion. That is something, as of yet, I haven't received.
Even more upsetting than the complete lack of concern are those people who feel the need to talk shit about me. One woman, who was sitting right next to me, yelled in front of everyone "where is the woman whose husband is in jail?" Then there are other women who talk about me in front of my face. They are saying my name and looking at me out the corner of their eye. I understand bits and pieces of what's being said, but I cannot confront them because they will expain it away because I don't speak their language.
I know this post is hardly coherent. My mind is a jumbled up mess right now. May allah give me strength to make it through the next month. I will be in Algeria for a visit in about 6 weeks. I know it will be hard when I return, but I'm hoping it will energize me for the rest of the wait.
**This post isn't about one person in particular. It's a small sampling of situations I have encountered with people of all ethnicities. If you think I'm talking about you then maybe you should think about how upsetting your comments were to me. If you don't think it's about you that doesn't mean I'm happy with you either. I don't expect this to make anyone suddenly care. Just trying to make everyone aware.