The Heartache of a Child Abduction at Christmastime

The holidays are a bittersweet time. While we celebrate with those who are in our lives today, there are always thoughts of people who are long gone, and those melancholy memories can be overwhelming. Sunday was the anniversary of my father’s death, 27 years ago, while yesterday marked 37 years since my grandfather’s passing. Their anniversaries always bring a flood of holiday memories for me.

Today is an entirely different anniversary . . . December 14 marks three months since I found a tooth in my truck, sitting right on the driver’s seat where I knew it hadn’t been just an hour earlier. One of last times I’d seen that tooth, it was still in my 9-year old grandson Kieran’s smiling mouth. Later that day, it had finally fallen out and we wrapped it in clear tape so we wouldn’t lose it. I don’t remember where Kieran put it, “To be safe!” but I do remember him searching for it later that afternoon when his father came to pick him up from our farm.

“If I find it, I’ll hold onto it for you,” I said. “The Tooth Fairy will leave you something, anyways.”

And of course, she did.

I didn’t know then that only a month later, Kieran’s natural mother would abduct him and bring him to South Africa where she later married a very old, very wealthy man. (No, I’m not going to go there, but I want to . . .) I didn’t know that the little boy I had fallen so hopelessly in love with, who loves horses the way I do, who talked about someday helping run the farm and rescue horses with me . . . I had no way of knowing on that last day in August of 2010 . . . when he’d asked me to hide him in my truck and kidnap him because he didn’t want to go back to his mother . . . when I hugged him goodbye, both of us sobbing because he was leaving . . . but I told him I would see him at Christmas  . . . and we both thought it was true, and that’s why I let go of him and stood waving while his father carried him to the car, consoling him . . .

I also didn’t yet know about the corrupt South African government, where a wealthy old man can pay off officials so that despite every court ruling that went against his young wife (now an international fugitive from justice that no one seems interested in arresting although they know exactly where she is,) no one has been able to get our grandson back for us. I didn’t know then how many thousands of dollars it would take to fight for a child that every court had already ruled belonged with his father. It’s been a heck of an education, that’s for sure.

When my children were young, I got divorced. I never, ever said anything bad about my ex-husband to my children, although I know he didn’t adhere to the same code. It didn’t matter, as I knew my children would love me no matter what lies they were told, and I wanted them to love their father. Period. I never denied him time with them, and there were weeks when he had them more that I did. Yes, there times I was really, really angry with him. It was a DIVORCE, for God’s sake. But my feeling was, if I denied their father access, they also wouldn’t see their grandparents and the rest of their extended family, and I firmly believed that more people loving my children was a very good thing.

When Kieran’s mother first took him, I really believed he would come home for Christmas. I believed she would share him with the dozens of other people who love him with all their hearts. In my wildest dreams I could not imagine she would keep him to herself and her rich, old man husband, because I could never understand a love so selfish and small and insecure. How could a mother doubt her children’s love and loyalty so much that she would not share?

Christmas is 10 days away. Our tree is ready. We put it up after Kieran was abducted last year, and it will stay up until he comes home again, and I don’t care how long it takes (but please, God, don’t let it take much longer!!) If he arrives in the middle of July, I will put on the Christmas music and start rolling out the piorogies for Christmas dinner, and we will turn on the tree lights and have him open his gifts. And if he ever asks me to hide him in my truck and drive away again, I just might do it, because I now realize he knew more about what was going to happen than we’d realized.

On the mantle near our Christmas tree, I keep that one precious tooth that reappeared, by some miraculous intervention, exactly three months ago today. It’s all I have of Kieran, and as promised, I will keep it safe for him until he returns. It’s kind of silly, but like the tree, it’s a symbol of hope, not just for Kieran’s safe return, but that wherever he is on the other side of this planet, he never, ever forgets how much this side of his family loves him. And that no matter what anyone tells him about us, my most fervent Christmas wish is that in his heart, he still loves us, as well.

Merry Christmas, Kieran, with so much love from your father, step-mom Chelse, grandparents, brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends and all of us on the farm. We miss you every . . . single . . . day.