Our sunshine is back!
Vergel and I can’t remember going through anything darker at anytime than in the past four weeks, the longest sunless four weeks of our lives, when she was kept from us, taken with such obvious, yet unwritten, court consent that all hope of getting her back seemed lost.
Her maternal grandmother, in violation of a long-going arrangement, refused to return her to her father, my son, when he came to get her back Sunday, in time for school the next day. Herself her daughter’s lawyer in a suit for custody, the grandmother had done it based on no court order; she had taken up the role of surrogate for her absent daughter, who had gone back to the US, where in fact she has lived, with a husband and two daughters by him, and except for two short visits here three years apart, away all these nearly seven years from Mona, her child in an interim affair with my son.
It is simply unfortunate that once couples separate, complications arise for their children especially; for one thing, they are shuttled between homes. Mona’s case happens to be even more complicated; indeed, things were never right from the beginning.
Doubtless born out of love, a love rekindled between college sweethearts, Mona, just turned seven, is growing to be an intelligent and beautiful girl; happily disposed, how she loves to sing! All the same, she needs special care and attention in order to ease the unusual circumstances of her existence.
All those dark weeks, my husband and I prayed and sought redress wherever it could be found. And it’s almost embarrassing, and quite a shock to us, to realize at our age how vulnerable we have become. Apparently we wore our anguish too openly so that family and friends couldn’t help but notice.
Feeling ravaged and spent, we dropped out of our regular activities. I barely managed to meet my deadlines. Sleepless, we talked the night hours away. Without Vergel, I couldn’t have gone through it, bearing that feeling of helpless desperation alone.
One day we decided to take stock. After all, we had already done everything we could; for one thing, we got us an excellent lawyer. It seemed time to let go and get out of the way of God’s grace. The other alternative was depression.
Settled issue
All that is behind us now. The sight of my happy granddaughter back in school wearing her school uniform, reunited with classmates and teachers, who each had written her a letter when she was away and now, on her return, welcomed her back with hugs, is sunshine enough to her Mamita.
We had presumed the issue of physical custody already settled when it was granted by a US court to my son after the child’s mother and her husband signed away their rights. The child carries my son’s name, with DNA-proved paternity.
We had always felt, however difficult it might have been for the mother, by going back to her husband and their daughters, she had done the right thing.
I figured, perhaps naively, that the primordial ties between mother and daughter as well as between sisters would work itself out in good time. The more difficult relationship obviously would be with the stepfather. At any rate, the suit happened; but we still hope both sides could begin a renewal of acquaintanceship, if not friendship.
I’ve come to realize, by firsthand experience, that justice cannot always be had from the courts, in a case involving a child, the most vulnerable of subjects, in a row between adults. It is a cold system, one that, at least in my experience, takes into account the interests of the adults more than that of the child.
All’s well
Anyway, all’s well that ends well. When the maternal grandmother kept the child from her father and out of school, the issue was somehow forced.
On Oct. 23, the judge ordered the child back to her father in the old arrangement, so as not to interrupt her schooling, as happened in perfect time for her to spend her seventh birthday with us.
Mona’s weekends remain with the maternal grandmother who, in what I like to think was done in the spirit of reconciliation, has expressed a willingness to share them with her paternal grandparents. But more important, Mona should have weekends for herself wherever she may be.
She is a student who excels academically, with extracurricular interests of her own. She likes to swim, take ballet, and has regular play dates, organized and supervised by parents, with her circle of friends kept since kindergarten.
From where we stand, we can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Some of it seems coming from the child herself, who at the wise age of seven is beginning to find her own voice, making her own choices. Let’s allow her to shine.