It is my sincerest hope and prayer that you return to the U.S. soon to be with your daddy, and to finally get to know your aunts, uncles, cousins, and Grandma who have missed you for so long. I truly wish I could say that this is the only outcome I even ponder, but the reality is that I don't know what will happen, and I know that for many parents and children, justice has not been served, and the years continue to pass. One thing I do know, in my heart of hearts however, is that no matter what happens today or tomorrow, someday you will come to know the truth about what has been happening for the last three years, and about why your daddy hasn't been able to be with you, despite his heart aching to do just that every single minute of every single day. I don't need to explain to you why this has come to be, there is plenty of documentation of that should you decide you need to know (the internet is a beautiful thing in that way, as no matter how many lies somebody tells, they cannot hide the truth when it has been carefully documented online, as yours has). I created this blog because I want to help your father, my brother, bring you home, but I also created it for you, so that no matter how old you are, and no matter where you end up, you will always know of your father's love and of his fight to be with you, and so that you will know that all of our doors, arms, and hearts will forever be open to you.
I am your aunt, and your dad is my twin brother :) I have so many stories I could share, and will when I finally see you, of our lives growing up together. Although we didn't always get along, as is often the case between brothers and sisters, I recall that most of our arguments were silly rather than serious ones (we both liked to tease the other, and often did. Your dad, when we were kids, would refuse to get in the backseat of the car, and even if it was my or your aunt Sara's turn to sit in the front, he would not get in unless he could sit there--your poor grandma would just sort of give us that pleading look that said, "please, I just need something to go smoothly today"). Despite the silly fights, I have always looked up to my brother.
From the time we were young children, he was sort of forced reluctantly into the role of "man of the house" to all of us women, as that role was lost on our father. At that time, his bravado sometimes exceeded his physical ability to match it, but he still tried with all his might to be what he thought our mother needed him to be. As we got older, the aberrations of our father became too big for our mother's good example to overcome completely, and each of us made our fair share of mistakes as we struggled to cope with all we had seen for so many years prior, and to determine how to convert those experiences from painful memories into positive life lessons. Eventually, your dad decided to move to Florida (where our father had moved) to finish school, perhaps in part to either decry or confirm for good what seemed like our father's ultimate lack of concern for his own children. I'm sure he has his own stories to share from that experience, but for me, I simply remember how his absence left a void that wasn't able to be filled by anyone else. Mostly, I missed my brother, but I also envied his independence, his self-sufficiency, and his strength, as this was a period of time when he was truly discovering, and redefining, himself.
Your father has always been a good person, but I never could have imagined the father he would turn out to be until he had you. Although he'd had no real example of a father himself, from the moment you were born, being your father completed him in a way that only another parent can really understand. He became for you everything that he'd missed out on in his own childhood and more, and loved you from head to toe. On your one visit to Michigan with your mom and dad, when you were five months old, I was surprised at just how much you were in his arms, and delighted at how much he adored you. When you left for Mexico several months later, it took me awhile to realize just how much his heart had broken...the only way I can describe it, is that it was equal in intensity to the fullness of his heart when you were around. Three years later, his heartache has not abated. If anything, he has simply become used to living with the pain as he continues to fight for his right to be with you, and I know he will never give up until that either happens, or you know the truth.
No matter how long, or how difficult, or how much distance between you or us, your father, and the rest of your family, will always be waiting for you to come home. We love you, Sage.
Lots of love,
your Aunt Sonia
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| Your dad, Carlos, and your aunt Sonia |
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