Immigration Area

When the war in Syria took my wife away, I realized that I could no longer stay and that, at all costs, I had to try to give our daughter Miriam the hope of a better life. Miriam is ten years old today, but she was only two when we left our home and what remained of our old life.

Alessandro was not the first person from Caritas Diocesana Trieste we met, but he was certainly the one who helped us the most over the months. The first weeks in Italy were anything but easy: I didn't know where to go, what to do, who to talk to, or how I could make a decent life for my daughter in a country where I could barely make myself understood.

Somehow, however, Alessandro understood. He understood us and, most importantly, made us understand that we could trust him, that he wanted and could really help us start over. He was the one who handled all the paperwork for the asylum application, explaining everything to us in simple words and finding ways to manage my despair when the waiting and difficulties seemed too great. He acted as an intermediary with the authorities, helped us find accommodation, and connected us with other refugee families. He made sure we never felt alone or abandoned during a time of great fear, nostalgia, and uncertainty.

Today, eight years later, Miriam attends school, and I have found a job. I mostly work at night, and it's not easy to be a present father, but when I see my daughter running towards me laughing, all the effort suddenly makes sense, and I know I did the right thing. I also know that none of this would have been possible without the kindness, patience, and skills of Alessandro and all the other people who helped us. For this, I am infinitely grateful.

Over the years, I have come across many people and heard many stories, but some have stuck with me more than others. Hassan's story, for example, struck me because he showed up for his first appointment with me along with his daughter, Miriam, who I think was just over two years old at the time.

As a father, I clearly remember my inability to imagine what it must be like to be forced to flee your home after experiencing a loss as great as theirs, leaving an entire life behind to chase something as fragile but powerful as the hope of a better tomorrow. Even now, I struggle, probably because I have never known such great despair – something for which I am grateful beyond imagination.

Overall, their case was similar to that of many others: bureaucratic delays, endless waiting, moments of great despair, difficulty understanding the language, and even more so the intricacies of immigration laws. Seeing them finally obtain refugee status was a great satisfaction.

I know they still live in Trieste, Miriam attends the same elementary school that my daughter attended, and I believe Hassan works at a hotel reception. I like to think that they have found a place where they can build a new home and a new life, with a bit more serenity.