My husband joined the Syrian army four years ago, and I haven’t seen him since. For three years, I waited. Assuming he must be dead, I decided it was time to run. Leaving behind any chance of finding him, I escaped with my six children, but that wouldn’t be the end of my family’s splintering. I am now living in Europe with my youngest child, but my other five children were sent to different European countries. The lament of my heart is deep, but I have been attending an English class at a local refugee center for past several months, and have started to regain normalcy through relationships in my new community.