A Father's Love (33 page)

 

 

SITTING BACK IN my seat, next to Sean, with our seat belts fastened and the jet engines whirring outside our window, I dared not let down my guard. We were still on the ground in Brazil. After what seemed like a dozen or more cross-checks, the captain finally headed the plane down the runway. We were in the air! It was 11:53 AM on Christmas Eve.

I turned to Sean and said, “Give me a high five! Wheels up, buddy!” I threw my arms up into the air. We were on our way home!

I sent a text message to Tricia: “Wheels up. Wheels up! Wheels UP!” As soon as possible, I sent a similar message to Wendy, Mark, Bob, and others close to us.

The jet whisked us higher and higher, flying six thousand feet higher than commercial flights, closer to heaven than either Sean or I had ever been before, as we left the moldering mess behind us in Brazil. I hugged Sean, then leaned back for a moment and closed my eyes. It was Christmas Eve. Obviously something—or Somebody—much bigger than us was involved in Sean's release.

On board the plane, everybody was teary-eyed but relieved. I could see that Sean was relieved, too. He was reserved at first, talking cautiously, trying to ascertain not just the new surroundings but also his new relationship with me. It seemed to me that he was trying to reconcile what he had been told about me with his new reality. In his mind, no doubt, he was coming home to “the enemy.” He had been told such horrible things about me—that I had abandoned him as a child, that our home was the kind of dilapidated shack that should be condemned, that New Jersey was an awful place. I knew that I couldn't convince him with words; I had to let time, love, and consistency show him who I was.

I sat next to Sean on the copilot's side of the plane for takeoff. Then, once the jet reached cruising altitude, we moved to two across-the-aisle seats that stretched out into beds. I knelt down next to him, patted his head, and held his hand. “I love you so much, Sean. We're going to have some fun. And you're going to see your grandma and grandpa.”

Sean smiled and lay back in his plush leather seat. I knew he must be exhausted. I could imagine that his abductors had kept him up late the night before. So I wasn't surprised when he closed his eyes and, within a few minutes, fell fast asleep.

I couldn't take my eyes off him. He was here, right next to me; we were together, and we were on our way home. I was physically and emotionally drained, but there was no way I could sleep. The adrenaline was still pumping through my body. While Sean slept, I couldn't resist reaching over every so often and placing my hand on his head or shoulder.

A tinge of sadness flitted through my mind as I thought of all that Sean had endured so needlessly. It never had to be like this. He'd suffered so much. My poor boy. I couldn't protect him. His innocence was gone. More than five years lost. Why? My mind momentarily flooded with questions that could not be answered, memories of actions that could not be explained, words that could never be taken back. I didn't dwell there long.

We have now,
I thought.
We have our future
. Sean has
his
future, and I will make certain that the remaining years of his youth are filled with love, understanding, and guidance; that one day he will look back at his childhood with more fondness than sadness. That when he is a man, he will be a good man, an honest man, a man who knows what it means to be a father, not because I've told him so, but because he's been able to see in me a father's love.

 

 

ABOUT TWO THIRDS of the way through the nine-hour flight, Sean woke up, so the flight attendant offered us some food. Afterward, he and I had a bubble-gum-blowing contest, and of course Sean won. One of the network's lead reporters on the story, Jeff Rossen, was on the plane, and before I knew what was happening, he and Sean were engaged in a food fight at forty thousand feet! We all were pretty lighthearted, and we did clean up the mess.

It was a long flight but it seemed to go by pretty quickly, mainly because I spent most of it gazing at Sean, my thoughts bouncing back and forth between heartfelt gratitude and near-disbelief that we were actually here, on our way home. At some point someone informed me that the plane's captain, Mike Funiciello, had piloted a similar mission once before. He had been the pilot on the private plane that flew six-year-old Elián González back to Cuba in 2000, after his mother had died attempting to flee to the United States. Elián's relatives in Florida wanted to keep him there, but the U.S. government insisted on returning him to his father in Cuba. Now Mike was flying another boy home to begin a new life with his father.

The jet landed in Orlando at 6:14 PM and taxied all the way into a private hangar. Once we were on the ground, I let Sean use my cell phone to call Silvana. She didn't answer, so he left a brief voice mail message for her. “Hi, Nona. I'm here already. I'm very happy. Kisses. Bye.”

Before the day was out, the message was aired on Brazilian television.

Bernie Aronson had talked with me from Wales several times during those last couple of days, offering advice and encouragement. I sent him an e-mail: “Wheels down. God bless. We did it.”

We deplaned inside the hangar, to avoid the crush of media waiting outside the executive airport. A contingent of Florida state police greeted us, lined up and standing at attention as sort of an honor guard on our behalf. It was truly a touching gesture.

The state police were concerned that we might need an escort to get through the swarm of reporters and television cameras. The officers manned several black SUVs and headed the caravan out in one direction, with a phalanx of media in hot pursuit on the ground and several helicopters in the air. A few minutes later, Sean and I and a couple of NBC representatives inconspicuously climbed into a vehicle that looked like a rather ordinary airport shuttle van. We rode across town unimpeded and were guided inside a back entrance to Universal Studios.

With my full consent, NBC had arranged a fantastic Christmas welcome for us at the network-owned theme park. I felt that it would be much better to gather our family and share our first holiday together away from the media flurry that was sure to follow us when we arrived back in New Jersey. As much as I appreciated the media's role in Sean's release, the last thing he needed right now were ubiquitous cameras following his every move. I wanted him to have the opportunity simply to be a boy, and to share these first days with his loved ones, who had also suffered every day he'd been gone.

Sean and I went to our room, stepped inside, and did a double take. We were staying in the presidential suite, a palatial composite of rooms the square footage of which was probably bigger than my entire house. Mom and Dad were on their way, as were my sister, Leslie, and her family, and Wendy and her children. We'd probably take up every room in the suite. But for right now, it was just Sean and me, our first night, and all I could think about was getting my son tucked into bed.

I ran a bath for him, and we ordered room service. Sean got chicken nuggets—just like those he used to enjoy when he was a four-year-old. We sat down and watched cartoons for a while, and before long, he grew tired. He pulled out a big stuffed dog from one of his three plain sacks of clothing and we went into the bedroom, where I tucked him in and told him I loved him—about a million times! I was overwhelmed with joy. I knelt next to his bed and stroked his hair as he drifted off to sleep. I don't know how long I stayed there; I didn't want to move. A short while later, the clock struck twelve. It really was a Christmas miracle.

B
Y THE TIME MOM AND DAD ARRIVED AT THE HOTEL LATE ON Christmas Eve, Sean was already sound asleep, but we couldn't resist looking in on him in his bed. All of our faces were beaming and streaming with tears of joy. “Can you believe he's in there?” I said to Mom over and over. “I can't believe he's in there. I keep going in and looking at him.”

That night, the first night Sean and I had spent together in more than five and a half years, myriad thoughts and emotions surged through me. I felt compelled to get out a word of thanks to the people on our Web site and on the other child abduction sites who had so faithfully supported us. I knew in my heart that for the rest of our lives Sean and I would always want to be there for them the way they had been there for us. The night before the handover, I had written a note for Congressman Smith to read to the press on my behalf, after Sean and I were in the air and out of Brazilian airspace. I passed along that same message in an open letter to all the groups who had helped us:

After we awakened on Christmas Day, and my mom and dad got to greet their grandson, we all had breakfast together. Then, before things got too hectic, I gave Sean my cell phone and told him, “Call your grandmother and grandfather in Brazil. Wish them a Merry Christmas.” Sean did, and I think the Brazilian grandparents were surprised. Even if their actions and responses were not reciprocal, I wanted ours to demonstrate kindness.

My sister, Leslie; her husband, Chris; and their two children arrived at Universal that morning, and despite not having seen one another since Sean was four, the cousins were instant pals again. Sean seemed to especially enjoy being around other kids, and just being a boy. Before long, the kids had commandeered the entire hotel suite, running through the rooms, shooting toy guns, and using Dad's arms as a basketball hoop to play basketball.

Dad loved it! He and Sean had already reestablished their former names. “I'm ‘Pop-Pop,'” said Dad, “and Sean is ‘Little Buddy.'”

Congressman Smith and Marie called to wish us Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah. After he got back around 8:00 AM on Christmas morning, the congressman and his family had held hands around the tree and prayed for Sean and me and our family, that the transition would go well, that Sean would quickly adapt, and that any emotional damage that had occurred would be undone.

Wendy and her kids got there a short while later, and we all had a ball enjoying the park's attractions. Along with the other kids, Sean hopped right on the park's many rides, some that might have scared a less resilient child. He played pinball in the park arcade, ate ice cream, and shot some hoops with me.

The day after Christmas, Meredith Vieira visited, and she and I did some on-camera interviews. In return for their kindness to us, I had happily agreed to give NBC exclusive access for those first interviews. We did not, however, film or interview Sean directly. Adam—someone whom Sean would not find intimidating because he had flown with us from Brazil—took inconspicuous shots with a mini Flip video camera and captured Sean playing with his cousins and family members, laughing and having fun.

The entire family stayed at Universal for three days. We went on all the rides, swam in the luxurious pools, saw great shows, and generally had a blast. We felt no pressure, only peace. The hotel staff even wheeled in extra beds so all the kids could have a “sleepover” in one room. They watched movies, ate junk food, and had lots of fun just being kids. Perfect.

When it was time to leave, we drove from Orlando to Jacksonville to avoid the media frenzy; flew from Jacksonville to Philly; then traveled to our house by car with a driver arranged by NBC. It was a long, tiring trip, and along the way, as we sat together in the backseat of the SUV, Sean looked at me and asked, “Where's our home? When are we going to be home?”

Home.
When are we going to be home?
Coming from his mouth, the words thrilled my heart. I had been waiting for so long to bring him home, and I had wondered if I should even use the words “Welcome home, Sean,” but now, before I even had had a chance to say them, he was already acknowledging my house as his home. I didn't want Sean to have to be overly sensitive about his responses to his new life, so I choked back my emotions and attempted to maintain my composure. But my heart was pounding with joy.

 

 

IT WAS EVENING by the time we pulled into our neighborhood, and the December sky was dark, with bright stars twinkling like diamonds against black velvet. It was as though nature itself were celebrating Sean's return. I noticed only a few media trucks in front of our house, since most of the media didn't know when we were scheduled to arrive. The inside of the house looked mostly dark, but there were large candy canes, decorations, and Christmas lights all around the outside. Some of my close friends and neighbors had decorated the house to welcome us home.

As we turned into our driveway, somebody inside the house opened the door to our basement-level garage so we could drive right inside. We came upstairs, and the first thing Sean saw was the Christmas tree with all the lights and presents. Our local fire department had provided the tree, and friends had filled the area around it with brightly wrapped gifts. Sean and I both dove for the floor and started pulling out Christmas presents, many of them from people Sean did not know but who had wanted to express their love for him. Sean's eyes were sparkling like the stars outside as he ripped the paper and bows off the packages.