I know other expats that haven't been 'home' in 4 years, others that make the annual trip that helps them get through the rest of the year. Moving from a place like Melbourne, Australia to Doha, Qatar or anywhere in the Middle East for that matter, offers such a diverse environmental and culture change. It's so much bigger than any sea or tree change people speak of back home and I don't think anyone can prepare themselves for it or be completely confident that they will cope with all that it entails. It offers a wealth of unique opportunities and new experiences that will never pass you in that other part of the world you call 'home'. It will be filled with fun times and new friends and you will be feeling content and secure in your new 'home', living life as we know it, but then something will bite you on the backside, out of nowhere, when you are least expecting it...
When homesickness sets in, it sets in! Sometimes its a song on the radio that reminds you of someone special, sometimes it's a craving for one of the many little sacrifices you willingly make when you pack up your bags, but that 'little' sacrifice felt rather major on this particular day. Sometimes your mind wonders back onto what it was doing and the feeling passes, other times, it lingers for days and you find yourself in a slump that no amount of sunshine can seem to bring you out of. The cloud does eventually pass.
Our first trip as a couple, which we referred to as 'our adventure', I found it much easier to leave home. Packing your bags is one thing but packing up the grandchildren is heart wrenching. No airport good bye compares to those when you have grandparents saying good bye to their little treasure. Skype is a fantastic thing but on screen kisses and imaginary cuddles don't compare to the real thing. Thinking about what is being missed, whilst you go off to another country and do what you have to do....and that is to live your life the best way you know how, at that moment.
This week my mum, who is in her late 60's and lives alone, had surgery on her legs which meant that she was going to be out of action and would need assistance with most things. We had discussed prior, whether or not I would come home and both agreed that she would cope with a little help from others. I have been speaking with her each day and I couldn't be more regretful that I didn't come home to be with her. She is there, in pain, I'm here and I can't help.
When we spoke through the week, she told me she had some sad news. I hate hearing those words. One of our cousins lost her husband, a father of four, suddenly and unexpectedly. I have a soft spot for these kids who I used to babysit when I was about 15. They are all grown up now but I don't see them any other way than little tackers and I was so sad to hear they had lost their much loved Dad. We haven't seen each other for a long time but Facebook keeps us in touch. I'm here and a Facebook message where words are so difficult at times like this just felt wrong. If I were home, there would be something more I could do.
We have lost family and close friends unexpectedly during our time away and there's something different to grieving from afar, when you are not at home surrounded by family and friends nor are you there to comfort those that need it. You may go home for a short period and this can help you with closure but grief hits you in waves long beyond that short visit. You can't call in to that person just to see how they are doing, when you find your mind wondering or remembering, but you wish you could.
Times like these, the only place you want to be is home.
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