I must apologize to
everyone because of how extremely behind I am. It’s been months now and still
was not able to post any pix of Maximilian and Philip’s homecoming. I was not
even able to select a few photos and ask Warren or Gerard to post them for me.
Yes, I must admit that even though taking and posting pictures of my family is
the only hobby I have, I never do any posting myself. It is always one of the
twins who does it for me. I’m an innate writer and have lots of pieces still in
old-fashioned manuscript form hiding in folders and boxes. If I could arrive to
manage today’s requirements for more graphic presentation I’d be able to say so
much more. Please don’t misunderstand me. Both twins are always, all the time,
and at all times ready, willing, and eager to help me—and they do so in a very
kind and considerate manner for me almost not to even realize that I
desperately need their help. Yet, it is not the same if you take a picture and
instantly send it to whoever you want to send it and post it wherever you want
to post it than if you have to get help every time—even if you can count on the
most selfless and devoted help ever.
Let’s go to a story I
already posted several times before but still cannot but post it again today to
honor my Dad, who is now next to God in Heaven.
My Dad, Armando C.E.
Godone-Signanini, was called by our Lord on November 2, 1993—yes, on the day of
All Hallows. It is a day when the Catholic Church honors all saints—including those
who were never formally or officially canonized but who all the same during
their path on this earth earned their rightful merits for true sainthood
forever close to God.
For those who are not
familiar with the adoption process from Haiti, it is, or at least then it was,
different from how things work from most other countries that are open to
international adoption. The adoptions are first approved at the IBSR, which is
the equivalent to what could be called the Department of Human Services, or
Department of Social Services, or Department of Children and Families. Then the
files are sent for court approval, and even though at that point the children
legally become members of their new families, still in every single case the
whole adoption process is reviewed one more time at the MOJ level. I should
clarify that MOJ is an acronym for Ministry of Justice.
In 2008, after all those
steps had been successfully completed and Thomas and Nicholas’ files had finally
come out of the long MOJ review process and had been sent to the U.S. Consulate
at Port-au-Prince for their visas to be issued, for some unknown and
unexplainable reason their files were sent, or were about to be sent, for some
third-level scrutiny to a mysterious office on the main land, most likely in
Washington, D.C., from where they could take months or even years to return—if they
would ever return. We were told that randomly one file out of I-don’t-recall-how-many
was sent for an even more thorough review in order to preserve the integrity of
the adoption process in the country in question. My Mom, Catherine, Gerard,
Warren, and I were in sheer desperation, sharing prayers and tears. Those who
had helped try to expedite things at the MOJ level were not able to do anything
at a higher scrutiny step by the U.S. government. Our local senator’s office
was not helpful at all. It would have taken weeks to even have our request
reviewed by someone. I contacted our local representative’s office and went to
speak with someone who was very kind and yet seemed to go no deeper than
superficial kindness.
Days were going by and it
seemed there was nothing we could do—except for crying, praying, and getting
more and more desperate by the hour. A few nights after the bad news I had a
dream I will never forget. I heard the doorbell ring and as I went to check I
saw my Dad, looking much younger than he did during his last years on this
earth, smiling at me and holding Thomas and Nicholas—one in each arm. "I
had to go in person to Haiti as the only way to bring them home to all of
you," he told me. "I knew that Catherine, Gerard, and Warren
could not wait any more. I filled out all the final paperwork. Only I left the
boys' middle names blank because I was not sure which ones you wanted for
them." In reality, unless things changed since then, children
adopted from Haiti arrive home with their new family names and their old first
and middle names, which can be changed only at the time of their re-adoption at
their new place of residence.
As I tried to hug my Dad one last time in my
dream, he vanished—but in the morning I made one more call to the U.S. Embassy
at Port-au-Prince . . . and I couldn’t believe my ears when I was told that our
files were back where they were supposed to be. It had been determined that
there was no reason why our files needed to go through any heightened scrutiny
of any sort and they were very sorry for the distress they had caused our
family in the meantime. Our boys’ visas would be issued within just a couple of
days. In less than one week I already had my airplane tickets to pick them up.
Needless to say, upon getting
the awesome news that everything would be all right and kept on schedule, my
Mom, Catherine, the twins, and I hugged each other, thanked God, shed tears of
happiness and relief—and shed even more tears thinking about the beloved one
who had departed this earth fifteen years before, and three years before I had
my twins sons, but was still there, interceding for us, and also watching over
his then newest grandsons, Thomas and Nicholas, whom he had helped bring from
the Haitian orphanage all the way home.
Immediately after our
little big celebration I called our local representative’s office and spoke
with the person who was supposed to take care of our case. Without telling him
the wonderful news I just asked him whether or not he had had a chance to
contact the Consulate at Port-au-Prince. He replied he had had a couple of hectic
days but would e-mail them right away after getting off the phone. I thanked
him but told him that wouldn’t be necessary—because there was no longer any
problem to resolve. It was only too obvious that it had not been a matter of
political intervention but of higher-order intercession.
That happened one week
after Father’s Day 2008. Now, five years later, on Father’s Day 2013, my Mom is
also in Heaven, next to my Grandparents, next to him, and next to God since last
September 1st, 2012. Catherine and the twins have been praising the
Lord every single day for having Thomas and Nicholas first and three more
brothers later on. Even when there were some bad moments or some bad times they
never stopped seeing all of their younger siblings as huge blessings to enrich
their lives—huge blessings bestowed by Heaven with the help of those beloved
ones who helped so much on this earth and from Above. It is Father’s Day today
and we’re back from Mass. Yes, I did cry during the Mass. And I can clearly see
Thomas and Nicholas much smaller than they look today, lovingly held by my Dad,
one in each arm.
