An Overseas Love

I never pictured my honey moon would be inside of a jail. The ceilings were so high and the walls were grey and white just so bland and industrial and the feeling was so cold.

Seeing each other via a small TV monitor at a jail located two hours from where we lived was the extent of our honey moon.

He was the perfect man: so handsome with a dark complexion, the kindest brown eyes I ever saw and curly dark hair, he tucked behind his ears, it fell just below his chin. He was everything I ever wanted: he drove me to work, picked me up, bought me flowers, had dinner ready on the stove whenever I was home from work. He listened attentively as I talked, he seemed to know me better than those I knew my whole life. Within a week I knew he was the one I wanted to spend my life with.

His brother came to town from Israel. It was a high school graduation gift from his family. My honey decided to take him on a vacation to see animals at a location three hours away. His friends warned him that he could be in trouble if he went the route he wanted. I had no idea what they were referring to until he called me sobbing. “ I finally met the love of my life & I’ll never get to see her ever again”. I still had no idea what he was talking about. He then proceeded to explain that he overstayed his visa by 3 years. He told me that he’d be deported and explained that I’d never see him again.

I knew him a very short time before I agreed to marry him. I’m from a small town where everyone knows everyone but all of my family members are high respected individuals with great jobs and well deserved titles. Deep down there was a knot in my stomach that they would never accept my soon- to- be husband. Sure enough, they didn’t and not only did they not agree but they voiced their opionions to all that knew me. It truly hurt that because my situation was less than ideal: we were of different backgrounds, cultures, religions and upbringings but we still found true love. Not only did my family not accept him but my friends didn’t agree either.

We had a choice. We could stay and fight his case or we could go straight to Israel. I decided to fight it. Looking back, I wish we would have just left when we had the chance but everything is always worth a try. He already over stayed 3 years, so what was another 3 months?

They fed him slop, burritos and peanut butter & jelly. He worked out and walked daily and his faith strengthened. I would drive 4 hours to see him practically everyday. I’d write to him everyday. I was heart broken and truly sick to my stomach while apart from him.

For whatever reason, people on the outside looking in will come up with the most negative, far- fetched stories. ‘ she’s a gold- digger, she’s using him for a vacation, she doesn’t care about him, he’s using her for a green card, he doesn’t care about her.’ This is what we heard everyday. The guards etc in jail told him this everyday, too.

Three months later I’m drinking coffee with his parents ( that don’t speak any English) in Israel, alone. We get the call that he’s finally being released and that we can pick him up at the Tel Aviv airport.

I stayed up the entire night, my palms were so sweaty, I stood there waiting for him to exit. I stood front and center for hours, I didn’t move. His Dad said he never saw anything like it- he offered me a drink or something to eat or to sit and I wouldn’t budge. We waited and waited but he never showed. We finally got a call that he was on a different plane and would arrive the next day.

The next day, he arrived. I was so happy to see him. But his energy wasn’t the same, his vibe wasn’t the same, his once so soft eyes looked so empty and sad.

I thought to myself this too shall pass. I just gave up my career in the US, my family, friends not to mention every possession I ever owned. ( I could only bring 3 suitcases) 25 years of life and all I had left were 3 suitcases. Tell me that isn’t love.

His family lived in a small religious village. Everyone there was a religion that I wasn’t. I tried my best to fit in. I dyed my hair darker, stopped wearing nail polish, didn’t wear as much make up and wore drab, long clothes that covered every inch of my body in order to be accepted. Ladies would cross the street and look down at the grown when they saw a married man approaching. Ladies weren’t permitted to shake hands with any gentlemen or even look them in the eyes. Every thing I was ever taught and known as being ‘respectful’ wasn’t respectful here. Chewing abnormally loud is actually considered a compliment to the chef that you’re enjoying your meal.

Aside from all the cultural differences, things weren’t going well. Within 6 months I found out that I was pregnant. Within 3 months I was taken to a hospital and asked to terminate the pregnancy. They didn’t want the baby to be a different religion since the religion comes from the mothers side.

I begged, I pleaded but he refused. No baby of mine will be born in these conditions is what he explained. But I said- the baby would know love and I will love it unconditionally but he refused and threatened to divorce me if I went ahead with the pregnancy.

After several months I started working at an international school with kids of all ages, races and backgrounds from all over the world. The kids were so loving, so kind and helped me forget about what was going on in my marriage or personal life.

As time went on I started to lose so much weight my clothes didn’t fit, he was becoming colder and colder and his addiction to smoking and drugs was becoming worst and worst. I was becoming closer in my faith and happier. My diet was healthy, my skin was glowing and I felt happy dispite my relationship with him.

It was Christmas Eve and we were at his parents home when I asked if we could please leave so that I could attend a special Christmas play I was in at church. He refused. Not only did he refuse but that lead to a very bad argument which ended in him going back to jail.

I sat down with the female officer for 6 hours explaining all that I had been through the duration of my time in Israel. I had bruises on me and my cheeks were so sunken in. She took a photo of me and compared it to my passport and she said just by looking at the two photos side by side she could see that all the stress, verbal, emotional and now physical abuse was taking a toll on me. She told me I could stay in the country as long as I wanted and they would fix my papers but she said he would stay in jail a very long time for what he did. At the time she realized that I loved him more than I loved myself so she told me, “ if you go home we will let him out, if you stay we will keep him locked up for your safety”. Again, out of love for him- I fled a country that I ended up loving, I had great friends there, lived close to a beautiful beach- I loved every aspect of this beautiful’sacred land’ but I didn’t love the way our relationship was going.

For the first time in awhile I called my mom “Mom, I need to come home” she responded without asking, “come home honey, I’ll buy your ticket”. If anyone wants to know where I got my loving heart that response sums it up. I was her only child, I left her to live with a man overseas that she never met and when I called her she was without a doubt there for me.

As of today, ten years later we are no longer married. We don’t talk, we still have a few mutual friends but we never mention his name. A few years ago he asked if we could have an open marriage, no kids and he promised that he wouldn’t be mean. My response was, ‘ there is no point in being married if you want to see other people’.

This story may have a lot of bad but through all that bad: I realized who I was, I realized who truly loved me and what true love was. If it wasn’t for those moments I wouldn’t have never appreciated my Mother’s unconditional love for me. These experiences have stayed with me and always will, I could have turned down a bad path but I have decided to help others instead.

If anyone in this is noticing the red flags in their relationships please get out while you can, before it’s too late.