My Grandmother Has Late-Stage Cancer, and I Can’t Go Home Because of These Damn Immigration Policies

My Grandmother Has Late-Stage Cancer, and I Can’t Go Home Because of These Damn Immigration Policies

I didn’t expect my last post to resonate with so many people.

I received messages from international students, graduates, immigrants, and even people who have never had to think about visa status telling me that they understood the fear I was trying to describe.

Thank you.
But after reading all of those messages, I realized something:
I still don’t know what to do.

My grandmother has late-stage cancer.
I don’t know how much time I have left with her.
Part of me wants to book a flight home tomorrow.
To sit next to her.
To hold her hand.
To spend time with her while I still can.

But another part of me is scared.

I keep thinking:
What if I leave the United States and I cannot come back?
I already experienced hours of secondary inspection the last time I entered the country. That experience changed the way I think about travel.

Now, something that should be a simple family decision has become an immigration decision.

Do I go home and risk disrupting the future I have spent years building here?
Or do I stay and risk losing time with someone I love—time that I may never get back?

I know careers can be rebuilt.
Jobs can be found again.
Plans can change.
But time with someone you love does not come back.

And yet, when your education, work authorization, career, and ability to remain in the country are all connected to your immigration status, the decision does not feel simple.

I wish I had a meaningful conclusion to this post.

I don’t.

I am still trying to figure out how to face the fact that my grandmother is dying.

I am still trying to decide whether I should go home.

And I am still trying to understand how something as human as wanting to be with your family became a decision I am so afraid to make.