Five years ago today I met my son for the first time. Most fathers "meet" their children on the same day they are born, but then I was arrested, jailed, and then forcibly exiled a few months before his birth. When I finally got to see him, he was four months old.
And this was the moment. Three days later, I would leave for Norway, where I'd apply for asylum. I wouldn't see him again until his first birthday. 
I missed the entire first year of my son's life, except for those three days. I'll live for the rest of my life as a father making up for it.
