Left Behind

Theresa was only fifteen when she arrived in the United States, carrying with her quiet determination and a vision of the American Dream. She worked hard, stayed focused, and built a life with intention. Deep in her heart, she also hoped to one day marry a man who shared her cultural roots—someone who would understand her upbringing and values.

Life, however, had its own script.

She met a divorced Cuban father at the hospital where they both worked. He pursued her intensely, but it was Theresa who ultimately chose the path forward—convincing him that marriage was worth building together. When she married him, she didn’t just gain a husband; she stepped into motherhood overnight, raising his two young children, ages three and five, as her own. She did so without financial, emotional, or physical support from their biological mother.

In time, Theresa and her husband had two children together. There was love in their home—real love—but also deep tension. They came from different worlds. He carried a rigid, disciplined, almost military mindset. Theresa, on the other hand, was gentle, peaceful, and believed in harmony. She wanted connection; he demanded control.

They tried to make it work. Theresa held on through counseling sessions, hoping for healing. But she later realized that the deepest issues affecting him were never spoken aloud in those rooms. The truth remained hidden, and without truth, healing had no foundation.

After fourteen years of marriage, something broke.

What had become a pattern—his yearly episodes of explosive behavior—finally pushed her past her limit. For the first time, Theresa asked for a divorce.

What followed was not just separation—it was war.

Suddenly, he was surrounded by voices advising him, influencing him, reshaping the narrative. He accused Theresa of emotional and physical abuse—claims that shattered her reality. A restraining order was placed against her. Overnight, she was cut off from the very children she had raised as her own. He attempted to take her biological children as well, but that effort failed.

The business they had built together over thirteen years? She was pushed out of that too. People she once trusted grew silent. Isolation replaced community.

The toll was devastating. Financially draining. Emotionally crushing. Physically, her body began to break down—she became anemic while already battling hyperthyroidism. Stress had found its way into every corner of her life.

And yet, something inside her refused to die.

The night everything changed felt surreal.

She had gone out to dinner with a friend—something she hadn’t done in a long time. When she returned home around 10:30 p.m., police headlights flooded her driveway. Two officers approached her and asked, “Are you Theresa?”

She said yes.

They handed her a restraining order.

The accusation? That she had thrown a computer, printer, and phone during an argument.

Theresa stood there in disbelief. She knew who she was. She knew what she was capable of—and what she was not. She loved peace. She loved her life. She had too much to lose to ever act in a way that would jeopardize her freedom.

But the papers in her hands said otherwise.

Moments later, the same officers returned and told her she had to leave her home immediately. Her husband would be staying there—with their son.

She was allowed to pack.

And she did—quickly, efficiently, almost mechanically. She gathered what she could: personal belongings, important documents, even her safe box. Each item she packed felt like a small attempt to hold herself together.

She thought about everything she had done for that family. The children she raised. The sacrifices she made. And still—this is how it ended.

While she was being forced out, her husband sat at a nearby coffee shop meeting with others—discussing, planning, moving forward.

Theresa, meanwhile, went to stay with family.

There was no time to collapse.

By Saturday morning, she was already seeking counsel—someone who could help her understand the legal battlefield she had been thrown into. She was advised to protect herself, to get a lawyer, to prepare for what was ahead.

Part of her wanted to run.

But a bigger part of her refused.

She prayed.

Not casually—but desperately, intentionally, with everything in her.

“God, give me strength—not just for me, but for my children.”

And strength came.

The court eventually allowed limited communication—only about the children and the business. When Theresa tried to locate her youngest son, she received no response. But she didn’t stop. She found him through the business location, and when her sister brought him back to her, he ran into her arms, ready to leave without hesitation.

That moment reminded her of something no court document could erase:

She was his mother.

Back at the house, surrounded by family, she began rebuilding—not just her life, but her authority. She took steps to regain control of the business operations, made hard decisions, and started drawing new boundaries.

When her husband showed up unannounced with police to collect items, she stood firm. The same woman who once avoided conflict now understood something critical:

She was no longer dealing with the man she married.

She was dealing with a stranger.

Messages came from him—filled with manipulation disguised as reason, warnings about finances, suggestions of mediation, and attempts to shift blame onto her lawyer. He spoke of losses, debts, and the children—yet continued to distort the truth.

Theresa saw it clearly now.

More lies.

Through it all, she leaned on her faith.

She guarded her mind, knowing that her thoughts were under constant attack. She reminded herself that emotions may rise—but actions define us.

She prayed boldly:

“Father, I need provision. Not just enough—but more than enough. For my children, for this battle, and to bless others. You said I am the head and not the tail. I stand on Your word.”

And even in the middle of chaos—she felt something unshakable:

Peace.

This was not the life she planned.

But it became her purpose.

She didn’t just survive it.

She was being transformed through it.Her mother’s input

She used to have so much energy, she raised four children full-time, ran a martial arts school and support Mat with the financial business. He used to call her Mother Goose because she always had children around her. Now her mother looked at her and told her "Mat tried to destroy you after all that you did for him, so you are in the house as a turtle."

Mat’s the Past

As a boy born in Cuba in 1965 to a couple married. His father whom Theresa loved much was a doctor and his mother who was his everything a woman of noble background. Born in a time of lack, poverty, minimal resources, but grown to have values, achievement, high expectations, pride and fear of nothing.

Growing up was a tough thing for Mat, being the only boy flanked by two sisters one older, the other younger. He was placed to be the responsible one to take good care of them in any situation. If when his father went away, he was left in charge as a young boy to take for my family even his mother. He took these responsibilities very seriously; he loved them very much. When his father came back he would let him know how well he took care of them, he would be very proud of him and so it went like that as far as he can remember.

Being under Castro dictatorship going to church was a bad thing Mat was to be a pioneer or a person who was totally devoted to the country and the philosophy of its leader. A church going boy was weak and not committed to his country so he would always give a hard time to his mother for going to church. She never fainted and always kept up at church and giving me and my sisters the example. Since his father was a doctor in Cuba and had declared to leave the country, he was to be put in hard duty away from his family for weeks and months at a time.

He was born in Cuba in nineteen seventy-one; his father was a doctor that was away from home most of the time. His mother took care of him and his sisters, and he was a man in the house most of the time because his father was away in the countryside to work for Fidel. His younger sister was sick a lot of times and had to stay in bed while the other children were playing. He would always feel bad about his younger sister and would try to make things more comfortable for her. One time they all playing outside, and she was not able to get off her sick bed so Mathew rolls her bed close to the back door so she could be part of the game.

They wanted to leave the country so, as a result, they would place his father to work away from them as punishment. His mother would take them to church on Sunday and, the day of the choir practice. As he was growing up and had friends in the neighborhood that were not Christian because most people that went to church were considered non-communist or were scared that if they admitted to Christianity they would be in trouble.

At the age of six years old he began to work outside of his home, cleaning shoes for people for a quarter, he felt good to have his own money. But could not buy anything with it because, in Cuba, most of what a child wanted is not available. One day his mother and sisters were at a carnival, he was so hungry and the line was so big his mother got in line with him to get him a piece of montecado. By the time they got to the front of the line, the man behind the quisco was somehow nasty to his mother and him. When he got the piece of the montecado sheet, he took it from his mouth and threw it back at the guy and said to him I did not need to beg you for anything and his mother told him it's OK will find something else to eat.

It was hot, and he was very hungry, but something told him inside to trust his mother. He learned a powerful value lesson from a shed that day. Another time was time for the three kings, and he liked a tricycle with a horse in front. He prayed that he would get that toy every time he passed by him would look at it and said to his mommy that's what he wanted.

When the committee got together to raffle the numbers, for the first time in their life they got low numbers. He believes it was a three or five that day or night his mother camp in front of the store and slept in a box to make sure no one got in front of her so she can get him that toy. Well, she did, and he was the happiest kid in Cuba. He learned so much from his mother, what a strong woman.

Another time was at the dentist, and his father came and took him out and goes home. He would not tell him what it was and made him promise once he found out he could not tell anyone what it is, or they could land in problems with the committee. When they got home, he opened a letter and told them that they have a visa to leave Cuba. They were scheduled to leave next week; everyone was very happy and sad because that would mean they had to leave their friends. His mother was very happy because, after ten or fifteen years, she got her wish and one more year of waiting for Mat would be taking from her to work as a soldier in agriculture for the country.

They went to Spain in 1976 for six months and the Christmas week of that year they came to the USA in Queens, NY at his aunt's house. Shortly after they moved to New York, NY.

This was when his life went crazy on him, and his mom tried to instill the same values of Cuba, but he saw life differently. He wanted to grow and be somebody in the USA the land of opportunity. His father being a Doctor to now cutting pockets for jeans and was studying to pass an English test ECFMG, that never happened then he realized that it was up to him to make something great of his family and himself. He was depressed to see where they were leaving in a small apartment, no money or very limited. He decided to make things happen for him first then for his family. He got odd jobs and created his own income washing cars, windows of places of business and carried things for people for quarter etc.