Pirate's Cove

There’s a very simple for all this

Holidays without my husband: What US immigration policy costs families

On any normal Thanksgiving, I would have made sure Nef had pecan pie after the big meal. It’s his favorite.

I know Nef loves pecan pie, but I also know he would be just as happy with blueberry or apple. It’s not the flavor that matters, it’s the small gesture of giving my thanks to him for his ability to find contentment and joy in the world.

That’s on any normal Thanksgiving. But this year was not normal.

Nef, short for Neftalí, is originally from Puebla, Mexico. After father died when he was a teenager, throwing the family further into poverty, Nef came to the United States to work and send money home to make sure his family had a chance at survival.

I met Nef in 2008 while he was working in Hell’s Kitchen. He was funny, full of bright light I couldn’t believe was real. All the qualities that, until recently, helped me survive difficult holidays and find hope in the midst of life’s challenges.

We married in 2017, mindful that his legal status was uncertain, but I thought I would be able to protect him legally or advocate for him if he was detained. In reality, I knew there may not be a fix at all in the U.S., even if we filed the right paperwork or “got in the right line.” After several exhausting years of spending money on expensive lawyers and filing fees, what I suspected was confirmed the hard way.

Yeah, and he’s illegally present in the U.S. in contradiction of the law. Things caught up with him, no matter what the family tried and which Democrat elected official they talked to.

This forced us to make a choice that no married couple should have to make: live with the everyday fear and danger of Nef getting caught up in this out-of-control system, or he could return to Mexico, where we could be forced to live apart for at least 10 years until he is allowed to apply for a green card again.

I could not live with myself if he were detained. We would have to take our chances living apart. On Oct 2., Nef left the home we built together, in the only country he has known as an adult and returned to Mexico. I went with him, relieved that he would be safer there with his family than here in the United States.

I returned to the U.S. in body, but my heart and mind linger somewhere in between. That’s why I skipped Thanksgiving this year, my first since we’ve been together, unable to face the holiday and all that it entails without Nef’s support.

She could have gone with, right? Oh, wait, Mexico has some seriously strict immigration laws.

It’s easier for people to understand the grief and loss I feel going into the holiday season, but it’s important to explain the anger I feel, as well. I am furious at what my country has done to me by taking away the one person who has been my safety net, who has been there for me over the past decade and a half in a way no one else has.

Not my problem. Not your problem. This is their problem, yet, she directs her anger at the U.S. But, isn’t willing to live in Mexico.

We text and video chat every day. I am flying to Mexico in the spring to see him and will continue to do so as often as I can afford. We hope that if enough Americans understand this problem and demand a solution, one day Nef and I can be reunited in our home here in New Jersey.

We understand that he intentionally broke U.S. law. So, this is on him. The sob stories no longer work.