Immigration
I think to myself, it's been over ten years since I moved to the U.S. Why can't I get over it? I reflect on how moving shattered my world and realize only now, as I type this, the depth of its impact. I had to bury it at a very young age just to function, to carry on with my life mission: petitioning for my parents.
My whole life, I was told, “One day you'll help me get papers so we can go to the U.S. together.” I knew it was my duty, but I was not prepared for the moment I was told, “You're moving with your grandparents as soon as you finish sixth grade.” The thought of never seeing my friends and family again was unbearable. I thought, “Did I do something wrong? Do they still love me? Why do they want to get rid of me?” No, I couldn't entertain these thoughts and feelings. How could they not love me? I am their child and this is what I had to do for them.
When I turned 18, my grandparents took me to a lawyer they knew to inquire about my parents' situation. We met with the lawyer, who had her Spanish-speaking assistant translate for us. Even though I could understand English at this point, the legal terms were confusing. Toward the end of the meeting, my grandma asked the assistant, "¿Y también le puede arreglar a su hermano?" ("Can she also help her brother?") I worried about this too, so I listened attentively to the lawyer’s answer. I left that meeting feeling hopeful and only had to wait three more years to begin our process.
Within a month after turning 21, we had all the paperwork needed to start the petition. I was told to check in monthly to make my cash payments and let the lawyer handle everything. This went on for a couple of months with little progress. Something that proved to be difficult during this time was getting forms filled out. I had to fill everything out myself. Nonetheless, this became an excuse to call my parents more often and learn more about their story and everything they had gone through.
After those couple months, the pandemic put everything on pause. I only made a few payments to my lawyer here and there after that because their office was closed. They said the National Visa Center (NVC) and other departments of consular affairs had stopped all processes until further notice. I realized I hadn’t seen or spoken directly to the lawyer or her assistant since before the start of the pandemic. At one point I went to her office intending to see her and get answers. I waited for hours in my car and I left with the decision of finding another lawyer.
Months later, I scheduled an interview with an immigration lawyer with stellar reviews online. I was so busy those days that I had to sit in my car in a Walmart parking lot for our phone meeting. In the meeting were my parents and a Spanish-speaking lawyer. This lawyer explained the process in detail, which was a huge relief. However, she said something that infuriated me: “We can only begin a petition for your parents, not your brother. Whatever your previous lawyer said is not true.” I had been told by my previous lawyer that if we started the petition before my brother turned 18, he would automatically get a visa if my mom’s visa was approved. As it turns out, my youngest brother would have better chances of getting a visa if my parents petitioned for him once they became residents or if a family member adopted him before he turned 18. If I began a process for him, it would take anywhere from 10 to 15 years at the very least. This was out of my control, and I had to focus on my parents first…