What it’s like to be separated from the one you love

It has now been 6 weeks since I left my wife Sana in Vietnam so I could attend to some personal business that requires my presence here in Virginia Beach.

I knew there would be a possibility of me returning sans Sana as we’re awaiting her visa to reside in the U.S. to be approved. Those who have read these emails for awhile know that, but there are a few new subscribers who may not.

There was a glimmer of hope it would be approved this past summer, but anyone who has ever waited on the government knows, hope is often dashed on the rocks of apathy while awaiting a person with the motivation level of your typical DMV employee to process things along.

So the time in which I could stay came to an end, and now here I am, alone in my small cottage on the outskirts of the city, jets flying overhead (do ever love those things), just waiting.

Of course it’s good to see my boy again. He dearly missed his dad, as did his dad him. And things are moving along at the speed of government to attend to this personal business that precipitated my return.

But boy do I miss my wife.

All of a sudden, I’m responsible for what and when I eat. I’m basically skin and bones at this point. I have to jump around in the shower just to get wet.

Then I came down with some sort of fever last night, and have been fighting it all day today. If she were here, she’d be attending to me, making me soup, giving me medicine. Cuz that’s what a wife does; she takes care of her man. And no one takes care of her man better than Sana.

I sit on my comfy chair at 6 pm typing this email. If she were here, she’d be cooking dinner, or maybe getting home from work and we talk about where to go to eat.

If she were here…

But she’s not.

I can’t say I’m shocked we’re enduring these separations of months at a time. I knew it was going to be a…unconventional way to begin a marriage. We got married in January 2020 – approximately 15 minutes before Covid became the dominant story and essentially transformed the world as we know it into something almost unrecognizable just a few weeks prior.

So our first two years have been a bit adventurous. And now we wait for this visa to get finished.

My son hasn’t even met his “buddy” after almost 3 years bonding with her via WhatsApp and FaceTime.

But we press on. This wait is a drop in the bucket compared to the impact Sana will make on me, my boy and our legacy as a family. So while I knew it was going to be an uphill climb, fraught with pitfalls and hiccups along the way, I knew it will all be worth it.

You think about sitting on your rocking chair when you’re 80 years old, outside on your porch, waving to the digital holograms of your neighbors passing by, and you ask, “Will I think about this nonsense then?”

I probably won’t.