Sometimes I Feel Sad


It isn’t often, but it happens.  Usually when I think about the past, or when I think about the things lost because of immigration.

I feel as though I have not personally lost much to our immigration situation.  Truthfully, I am living a life that I had dreamed about when I was young: living in a new country, learning another language, getting to know a new culture.  The one who has lost the most is my husband.

After he left for work this morning, I could not fall back asleep but did not want to get out of my warm bed; these moments are perfect for letting my mind run away with me.  I used my phone to get on pinterest and saw a tile that was painted with the last name of some unknown couple.  It made me think about my last name and my husband’s last name.  Then I started to think about Salvador’s relationship with my father.

Sal was scared to death of dad the first time they met.  He would not kiss, hug, or touch me at all in front of him.  He later confessed he was certain my father would tear him apart for putting his Mexican hands on his daughter.  But my father did not–when I am happy, dad, is happy, and that was all he cared about.

It took time for Sal to warm up to dad, but he did by the time we moved back home, saving up for lawyer fees.  He helped fix up the basement with dad, cut the grass with dad, fixed cars with dad.  If dad was going to the hardware store, Sal was the one to go with him.  He idolized my dad.

Sal himself never really knew his own dad.  His father left his little family behind when Sal was just 3 years old and went on to do some truly horrible things in his life.  He is nothing more than a source of shame and anger to my husband.  It took him a long time to tell me about his father and the man is still rarely spoken of.

As I laid in bed this morning and came across that painted tile, I thought about the day Sal came to me about changing his name.  When I married him, I hyphenated, putting his last name behind mine; he wanted the same hyphenated name for himself.  “I want your dad’s name,” he told me.

It will be two years this month since my husband has seen my father in person.  And while I am happy living here, I am sad that doing so keeps my husband away from the only father he has ever known.


6 responses »

  1. I understand totally. When I first moved down here, I was horrified about the life that I lost. I remember thinking that my husband got off better than I did. We moved to his hometown, where his family and some friends were. He maintained a social life and sort of a regular life, similar to the one that he had in the US.

    All I could think of was how isolated I was, how I had no friends. So, I had to be the one that lost the most.

    After I got over myself, I quickly realized how much he had lost, as well. It might have been different categories of loss, but loss the same. I think it was at that point that I finally stopped whinning about my situation and started to make the most of it. (You are light years ahead of me this far into your journey!)

    Even now, I feel horrible for him. He longs so much for the life he is missing out on because of immigration. I do as much as I can to ease his pain, but he is really great about not verbalizing it, so I’m not sure just how much he is hurting.

    Immigration is definitely a source of pain for all in the situation. I hope Sal continues the relationship via Skype/phone calls. It is nice to see a connection exists.

  2. I know how you feel. The sadness is not overwhelming but it still lurks around. Most of the time I am ok but it comes in waves. I feel sad sometimes for the life we could have had but most of the time I feel sad for the life that Javi could have had with his son who is stil in the states and the connections he also made with my family.

  3. Hey, its me Elizabeth. I emailed you about following your blog for my assignment. I REALLY appreciate you updating your posts so often. This is fantastico! I will probably be reading older posts as well, to really get an idea of who you are and why you are living in Mexico. I am most interested at the moment on your thoughts on the violence that Americans hear on the news daily in Mexico. Mexico is on the United States Department of Travel’s do no travel list. It is considered too dangerous for Americans to visit. I hear of violence, cartels, Zetas, murderers, drug smuggling, human trafficking etc. All of these things are extremely frightening. I have family in south Texas, and since Mexico is at their backdoor, I wonder if the media is stretching the truth or if it is truly that bad. I do not mean to jump right in on the heavy subject, but I do want to clear the air and gain your perspective. Again, thank you so much!!

    • The older posts are better so I do recommend you go back and read. There are a lot though, so be ready for that. About 120 or so. I used to post every day leading up to my move. Feel free to email to ask questions about how I ended up here if the blogs do not answer that for you.

      The truth is I do not have many thoughts regarding the violence. I did make one post about it, but it was more to say that people freak out about Mexico and violence when there isn’t a need; in Pachuca, violence really isn’t a part of our lives though we are a Zetas stronghold.

      I will say that the violence is very real and there are certain areas I would not travel to because of it. However, it is not a part of my life and it is not an everywhere thing. Then again, I grew up in St. Louis where violence is pretty commonplace so it takes a bit to freak me out. Everything the news reports on happens here, they aren’t making it up. It could use some balance, but teachers living happy in Mexico isn’t really newsworhty.

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