My Day

For the first time since I was elected four years ago I will finally be home for the birthday of my twin daughters, Abuk and Achan. Both were products of slavery in Sudan and their African mother was killed in a raid when they were four months old. She was holding Abuk in her arms while attempting to escape with a number of other mothers when they were discovered by marauding troops. Achan was being carried by her grandmother in the same group. As Abuk fell to the ground, shielded by the body of her now dead mother, others in the party were gathered together and taken away, back into captivity. It's a story likely well-known to many by now but it's still gripping for me just to recount it.Abuk survived for a year as an orphan cared for by a local village until we found her during the civil war and adopted her. We had been told there had been a twin sister but that she had been killed with the mother. And so life continued, with Abuk flourishing in school in Canada. I was a firefighter then and home every spare minute I could get to be with her. Then in a visit to Sudan five years later we happened upon her sister Achan totally by accident. Their identical features clued us in right away that something strange was occurring. For the first time since that initial raid, the two girls looked at one another, not knowing who the other was but sensing that they looked alike. DNA testing done a few months later revealed they were identical twins and two years later they were reunited here in London, Ontario.I tell this story for a reason. Neither one had a father until they came here to this great country. But while Abuk got a firefighter Dad with time to dote on her, Achan now possessed a political father - I had been elected between the two adoptions. Because no one knew their real birthday, we opted for today, April 22nd, Earth Day, as the special date. And for the last four years I have missed every one of those dates. Either in Ottawa or travelling across the globe due to my position of Critic for International Cooperation in the shadow cabinet, I never had opportunity to make it home for the special day.Having children with such a remarkable background is a privilege, yet also guilt-inducing at the same time.Their fascinating journey brought them to a father who has missed most of their special dates - first skates, school performances, graduations, and, yes, their birthdays. Politics becomes the hardest taskmaster when it divides families for such lengthy periods of time.But because we're in a campaign, I'm home. It's early in the morning here. I'm typing away with my tea beside me, eagerly awaiting the sounds of their stirring upstairs. Today they have a father present in the house on this, their special day. I'm not thinking of the campaign or reading the news. The kids will think I'm doing all this for them because of the special occasion. Actually, it's for me, selfish as that may sound. I have needed them in my life consistently but I had other responsibilities to help other people. Not today. Today is my day, the day to finally be the father to them I want to be. No canvassing today or knocking in signs. It's MacDonald's for breakfast, a party, presents, hugs and laughter. And tonight it's praying with them as Jane and I tuck them into their beds. This is my day and politics won't dominate. Happy birthday, girls. And Jane, thanks for covering for me in these years of service and absence. The kids are what they are because of you and your attention. At some point, I'll be back.