In their scramble toward safety, their eldest son, Rohejan was separated. He was only eight years old at the time.

"We last saw [our son] on July 17, 2016, we haven't seen him since then," Mr Darwesh said.

"Every day, we miss him. Every day we are sad."

Along with their fellow Yazidi people, the Darwesh family commemorate 'Black Day' on August 3 each year, remembering the horrifying moment in 2014 when their village came under assault.

The day was particularly painful for the Darwesh family because it triggered the separation from their son.

"I knew it would be a long time before we saw him again," Mr Darwesh said.

"But not four years. Just a year, I thought."

The moment of separation is one that continually replays in Mrs Darwesh's mind.

"If someone said it would be four years, I would have said, 'no', that cannot be," she said.

In March 2017, Mr and Mrs Darwesh, along with their two younger sons Randi and Redwan, were given permission to move to Australia.

But as they arrived in Wagga, they placed an even greater distance between themselves and Rohejan.

Now 12 years old, Rohejan has sought asylum with Mr Darwesh's brother and parents in Germany.

"He is living in Germany with my family," Mr Darwesh said.

"We know he is safe, but we worry for him."

Rohejan has begun school. He is learning English and German.

"We speak to him [on the phone] once, sometimes twice each week, but sometimes he doesn't want to because he is too sad," Mr Darwesh said.

"He says 'why am I here when you are all there'? It is hard for us all."

There was a moment of hope for a reunion back in March when Rohejan's VISA was granted, and the family thought that he would soon join them in Australia.

"We were so excited, we were very happy when the VISA came through," Mr Darwesh said.

Rohejan's younger brothers, Redwan and Randi, recall that they "screamed with joy" hearing the news.

But just days after the exciting announcement, the COVID-19 pandemic forced the closure of international borders.

All humanitarian VISAs, including Rohejan's, were thus halted, and the hope of his return to the family was immediately darkened.

"We were immediately sad again," Mr Darwesh said.

If it were not for the pandemic, the family would be together again in Wagga.

Instead, they have been forced to endure a long wait, watching as the hourglass creeps toward the VISA's November deadline.

"This is a bad disease that it closes everything all over the world," Mr Darwesh said.

"Now we don't know when it will be [that Rohejan will return]."

In the last couple of weeks, the family have received news that Rohejan will be given special exemptions to travel to Australia.

But the year's disappointments have left Rohejan unable to fully believe it will happen.

"It is hard for us to get excited," Mr Darwesh said.

"Sometimes he is very upset. He has a friend at school who's parents are also not in Germany, they are in Syria.

"The first time he believed [he would be coming to Australia] but this second time he keeps saying, 'I can't come to Australia'. He's let down."

The family have already been through such heartache, following their escape from ISIS.

For more than three years, Mr and Mrs Darwesh lived with their two youngest sons inside a small tent in a Turkish refugee camp.

"[The tent] was about two metres by three metres and everything but the shower was in there," Mr Darwesh said.

The blistering Turkish summers and the biting winters were felt all the more acutely in the rudimentary living arrangements.

Mrs Darwesh recalls "we didn't always fit, but we made do".

"Sometimes there was half a metre of snow outside," Mrs Darwesh said.

"It was very cold. There was no fan [for summer]. I have had backache and neckache that needed injections when I came [to Wagga]."

Food was minimal, rules were strict and freedoms were scarce, and the family lived under constant fear of further tragedy.

"The tent was very dangerous, sometimes it caught fire when we were cooking because the [electricity] wires weren't good," Mr Darwesh said.

"We are grateful that is over. We are thankful to be [in Wagga]. It was a bad time. But we miss out son, of course."