365 since I put you to bed

I wrote this to Nikki and Aunt Tara and Leilani and a couple more people today:

It is about you both.

It is 365 days since I put the children to bed; what a sad statistic.

I miss them so much; contrary to popular belief it is not easier as time goes by.

I put my children to bed, not expecting even in the deepest part of my soul that I would never wake up with them again, that I might never see them again as children; and that in less than 12 hours our lives would be uncharacteristically changed forever, in a terrible, horrible way.

Nothing I will ever do or say can ever bring me back to the place where I once was.

Nothing I will ever do or say will ever bring me the happiness that I once had.

My happiness was intrinsically intertwined with the lives of the children, without them I have nothing.

With them I was a happy, loving father, who would stop at nothing to enjoy his children and make their lives the best that I thought they could be.

In the morning it will be one year since the District Attorney and Homeland Security burst into the house at 2280 and removed me; taking me to jail initially and then detention some months later.  Nothing and no one can ever convey the feeling that I went through the lack of respect that was endured in the period of incarceration and nothing will ever be more prominent in my life than the moment that ICE told me that I could not see my family again, despite being married (under CA law) and having two children who I adore in California who are US Citizens by birth.

Whether I deserved to be exiled to the UK or not is irrelevant, they (the children) certainly did not deserve it.  They have never done anything to warrant such an abhorrent event on their psyche.

The children continue to thrive, as they will of course, just in a different environment now.

I will forever be an absent father, one who can never regain the period of time that is lost.

I have not hugged my children in a year

I have had literally 1 hour and 45 minutes physical contact with them in the last 365 days; and that was behind a table, and we were un-allowed to touch each other; no hugs and no kisses since 4-3-12.

There is not a single second that goes by that I do not think of them, that I do not think of what they have lost and what they have had to endure, and yes, I am lucid and compassionate one minute and blasé and irrational the next, as would most who endured this.  I no longer think past tomorrow and honestly most days I have no idea how the hell I get through them.

This weekend for my own reasons, I stop taking pills for the headaches, for the pain and more.

The change is because perhaps I feel that after a year, I should start to want to live rather than the converse, which is to slowly die internally.  Already my heart is mostly dead (emotionally), getting out of bed is a feat of accomplishment because there is just nothing here for me to look ahead to and enjoy.

There is a small sliver of hope with Mexico in 2015, at worse that will bring me to the same time-zone as the children, and at best I will get to see them in Mexico.  I am preparing myself for that fact that I may never see my children again, only once they are adults and can freely travel with a passport of their own; 10 and 11 years from now.  It is a high price to pay, but one that I have no control over.

I am sad far more than I am happy and hate this fact, but I am trying to make it better.

I will go out more; explore more places and do more things.

I will see more people and I will try to enjoy more of whatever I can.