In two days my husband and I will be loading the last of our belongings into the back of a van and taking them to his parent’s house. From there, my husband will unpack his things and I’ll try to keep mine largely contained in the suitcases and possibly use the time to weed through them a couple more times to decide if I really need to take something in an effort to meet the weight restrictions for the flight I know will come eventually.
We still haven’t received the fabled refusal letter. The only thing I can say is that I will promise to show as much of it as I can so that other families affected can prepare for what’s coming down the pike. Given my experiences with the Home Office thus far, it can be expected to be a template letter (possibly with typos – yes, I’ve seen it happen) so it is reasonable to assume that large chunks of it will not be case-specific (not that I’ve been particularly shy about sharing that; it’s more that it wouldn’t be helpful to other divided families).
Everything is basically packed. Tomorrow I’ll be taking apart the bed and packing the unused dishes and pulling things out of cupboards so that I know we won’t accidentally leave something important behind.
Between the two of us, my husband and I agreed: the worst part about all of this is the lack of knowledge about when things were going to happen. His employers, understandably, want to know when he’ll be leaving and my family wants to know when I’ll be coming (as stated in previous posts, regardless of what path we decide to take – be it US Immigration or the Surinder Signh route – I’ll have to go to the States first) so that they can prepare what they can for me.
One way or another, we’re done with fighting with the Home Office… at least for now. The UK hasn’t seen the last of us, not by a long shot.
For the time being, the lie I tell both my husband and myself is that we’ll come out stronger, that this is all part of our unique growing process as human beings. I can’t really call it self-hypnosis, but perhaps it does fit somewhere into the brain-washing spectrum. I won’t say it works 100% of the time, but it serves its purpose (i.e. making it possible for us to function).
Because that’s all we can do right now. Sitting petrified of what the future will bring will not aid us in being ready to meet the challenges. Doing so is a surefire way to leave us utterly impotent in the wake of rapids rising before is – the very epitome of being sent down the river without a paddle.