It's strange how tragedy ultimately touches your life.

On Saturday, the bombings in Bali resulted in the greatest loss of Australian life overseas outside wartime.

I quietly mourned the dead and counted myself lucky that I had not been personally touched by this terrible tragedy.

I was wrong.

You can probably tell from the tone of this entry how our immigration interview went.

Since the bombing, immigration has changed the rules. Now all applicants must provide not just a local police report, but the equivalent of a federal police report.

I understand the need for this. I understand that we need to protect the borders of this beautiful country.

It's still hard for me to understand that Ghost has been refused his visa until this information is provided.

From the middle of July, right up until 11pm Saturday, everything we had provided to immigration was sufficient. They knew everything they needed to know about him, his character and his past. There were no issues with any of it.

Because of what happened on Saturday, now he is a potential threat to our security.

If Saturday had not happened, not only would hundreds of Australians still be alive and happy, my boy and I would probably have been celebrating last night.

I was far too invested in yesterday's interview. I really believed that we would walk from that room with his visa. Now we must wait until his application is processed from Washington DC.

But that is not all. Without a visa, Ghost is still not allowed to work. It is illegal for him to get a job right now.

He has been in mandatory unemployment since April. Apart from the financial issues, this is driving him out of his mind with boredom and frustration.

We applied for an interim work permit, to allow him to work while we wait for a visa.

Apparently I earn too much money to let him work.

Figure that out.

I would understand completely if they said, "Yes, he can work, but he is not allowed to apply for unemployment benefits while he looks." I can respect that. But he can't work because I earn too much money? And they tell us that while our bank account has $3.78 in it? When 30% of my income just goes on rent and utilities? When we are paying off a gigantic personal loan to pay for the government fees involved in immigration? When we have no savings, no investments, no property? When we currently have no social life? When we spend the last week before payday living on spaghetti because that's all we can afford to eat?

We are existing, not living.

But I am deemed too successful by some government chart, so my husband is punished.

I think my head just exploded.

The interview was horrible. He started off my telling us that we weren't getting the visa or the work permit.

Well, gee, thanks for your time buddy. What is the point of the interview then?

It was not a good start.

He interviewed us together. Then he split us up. He asked us three different times why we didn't wear wedding rings. He wanted to know why we had so few photos. He wanted to know why I said the walls of the apartment were cream and the carpet was brown and Ghost said the walls were white and the carpet grey. (He's a guy for crying out loud. Unless they are gay, they don't notice these things!) He ticked off Ghost's answers against mine.

He asked Ghost what he would say if he asked him if he just got married to obtain a visa.

The questions were like accusations. He kept interrupting me. I felt myself second-guessing myself. Did that sound like an excuse? Did it sound real? Why is he looking at me like I'm lying when I'm telling the truth? Don't cry, by all that's holy, don't cry, he'll think you're putting it on. (I cried anyway, great heaving sobs that I had no control over.)

It's his job to weed out the fakes from the genuine couples, but that doesn't make the process any easier.

To our credit, by the end he believed that we had a genuine relationship. But that meant little to us.

We walked out, devastated and empty-handed.

Now we must wait again, at the mercy of the US and Australian governments, and hope that the right papers saying the right things arrive at the right time.

We have our health, we have our friends and family and, most importantly, we do still have each other. He's not going to be deported just yet.

Here's to more spaghetti dinners.

Thank you all for your lovely comments. If you could keep the odd digits crossed for us for a bit longer, we would appreciate it.