At last...

This is me, age 12. Just the summer before this was taken, our family had a once-in-a-lifetime summer holiday in the UK and Europe. During the first week in London, I turned to my mother and basically stated to her that I was where I was supposed to be. And, as I've said in other blogs, that feeling never left me. In fact, it got stronger over the years. I majored in British Studies in college and spent my junior (third) year studying in Bath in England. But that one year was not enough to satisfy my need to be in Great Britain. In 2000, an ill-advised engagement to an Englishman brought me, at last, the UK on a more permanent basis. The marriage, however, was not permanent. My English husband was a serial husband; I only discovered I was wife no. 3 as we prepared for our wedding. Long story short, our marriage lasted four years, at which point he married no. 4. At least the marriage lasted long enough that I was allowed to stay. Then two years later, I met Chris. We all know how wonderful that marriage was. I had never been happier than I was with Chris. And, with Chris, we made the move to Scotland. I had fallen in love with Scotland during a holiday in August 2004. I knew the minute I stepped foot in Scotland that it was home. And home it has been.

I never had the money to pay for the citizenship application and I was terrified of taking the "Life in the UK" test. I had the knowledge, but I also had and still have test anxiety. No matter the number of times I could pass the sample tests on the Home Office website, I was still sure that I would fail if I tried the test. And so I waited. Fortunately, in 2021, both my increased age and increased bank balance meant I could finally apply. Any applicant over the age of 65 is exempt from taking the test. But, still, I put it off. I couldn't get through all the documentation and paperwork while still feeling raw from Chris' death and the upheaval of moving to Oban. The question of citizenship was put on the back burner again. Then, last year in early Spring, I decided to take the plunge. I found a wonderful immigration lawyer to help me and we started the arduous task of gathering the exhaustive amount of required documentation. We started the process in March 2022. One year later, today, in fact, the process was complete. Today I made my pledge to King Charles III and to the United Kingdom and I became, finally and at last, a citizen of the country I had loved from childhood. The only thing that was missing was Chris, but I felt his presence beside me and I know he would have been so proud.

As I recited the oaths, I thought of all my British ancestors and how I hoped that my becoming a citizen would have pleased them. As a member of my family, both my mother's and father's side, I had come full circle and come home again. I tried not to get too teary during the ceremony itself. At the conclusion, once the oaths had been recited, a small cd player in the corner of the room rang out with "God Save the King" and my tears fell. Things were finally as they should have been always. My reunion of body and soul was complete. I am now British. Not by birth, but by the sense of home I've always felt here. And more than British, I am Scottish. The Scottish genes I carry, the legacy from my ancestors, is the strongest pull I've felt.

When I was a little girl, there were only three things I really, really wanted. To fall madly and eternally in love, to be a mum, and to live in Great Britain. They have all come to pass now. Only Chris' absence keeps my existence from being perfect. Thank you to Kay, my lawyer, and the Home Office for giving me what was missing all my life. The right to call myself a subject of the King and a citizen of this beautiful place.