Goodbye before I’ve gone
NS June 7th, 2009
I’ve been staring at this screen for half an hour, my fingers poised above the keyboard, but nothing comes. I’ve got a list of things to blog about but lack the willpower to muster up the energy and thought that they would require.
All is quiet. The Noble Husband is out, the children are asleep. I’ve turned off the radio and the tv. The white clock is tick-tick-ticking on the mantle. I should be reading, or working on my book, or cleaning. But all I can think about is Chicago and our arrival there in 11 days. My thoughts are consumed by the planning of our trip, the details and nuances of international travel. What will we take on the flight to keep the kids entertained? Where are our suitcases and will we be able to fit everything? When should I go get the traveler’s cheques? I’m a professional listmaker and consummate organiser who has traveled aplenty. I’ve done this a thousand times but for some reason it feels different, more important this time. My heartstrings are pulling me back to my homeland and at the moment the string feels so tight that I could snap in two from the pressure.
It’s been more than two years since I’ve been back. That’s the longest I’ve ever been gone. There are so many things I’m looking forward to while there, including the usual (spending time with family and friends, going to favourite places, enjoying the weather and eating favourite foods) and the special (introducing my son to my father for the first time; a family reunion at a lakeside cabin; my 30th birthday). But as the trip draws closer and I get more dizzyingly excited about the wonderful time I’m going to have, an impending sense of gloom descends as I consider this unfortunate truth: every day that brings me closer to seeing my family is another day closer to having to say goodbye again. I know that’s a horribly pessimistic way to look at it but enough trips and enough heartache have taught me to prepare myself for the flip side of “going home.”
I imagine the contentment and joy I will feel as I look at my entire family assembled together in one place, interacting in the flesh instead of over telephone lines and via webcams on computer screens, and know that the sorrow I will feel upon leaving it behind again will crush me like the weight of a thousand stones. I will carry those stones of sadness all the way back across the ocean where they will sit in my heart until the next trip is made. I’m afraid that when it comes times to board the plane that I will not have the strength to see my mother’s tears or my father’s jaw clench as he folds me into a hug. I will want to cling to them like I was a child again myself, ask them to protect me and love me and carry me home because I’m too tired to put one foot in front of the other.
My children will wave and look over their shoulders at their grandparents, who they communicate with mainly through wires and gadgets, and not know when they’ll see them again. My heart will break when The Noble Child wakes up the first morning back here in London and asks where her Nana and Boppy are. She will sit with me on the bed while I unpack and be puzzled when I turn my back and begin to shake in silent convulsions.
Later, I will sob into my husband’s chest and pound my fist into a pillow, mourning our return like a loss. I will resent him a little bit, be frustrated by the nature of our citizenry. I will find the food tastes horrible, nothing works as it should and the weather miserable, no matter the temperature. I will say I’m moving back, that I can’t stand this country anymore, and I will talk about making plans to do just that. The stones will get heavier as my sorrow deepens and I struggle with the reality of living on another continent.
And then things will get back to normal. Our tans will fade, the photos will be stored into albums on the computer and we won’t talk about what we did and who we saw all the time anymore. We’ll return to school and work and life (the others a little easier than I will find it) and start figuring out when we can see them again. I will heal my heart from the bruising it endured under the weight of those stones and then I will start casting them off, one by one, to make room for the love and joy that my little family here, my nucleus, instill in me daily. I will choose to forget the goodbye and focus on the hello, the happiness of being together.
Life goes on because it always does, but it’s a life with a piece of me missing.
- Expat Life , Home and Hearth , Squish Squish , Travel
- Comments(14)
*tears*
I love you, and really hope that I can see you.
I am also counting the days. Whatever you can’t fit into your bags we will get here. Just come!
I haven’t been home in 7.5 years. I feel your pain.
How beautifully written. I feel just the same – just in reverse. I am currently planning my trip home to the UK, from Chicago, for the whole of July. Just me and the kids. Can’t wait to hang out with my family and friends. There is a sense of peace and happiness and ‘home’ that I get from being in the UK that I just have never achieved anywhere else. And seeing my boys interact with the people I care about the most fills my heart with the most incredible joy. But all too quickly it is over. I too am already dreading August. Those stones are ready and waiting. I know I need to book something fun to look forward to in Chicago in August, to help me forget and to lessen the longing.
Oh Noble Savage, you write so beautifully.
For me, it’s a choice. Either I live with the stones, or I make huge deliberate effort to chuck them out from the pit of my stomach and get on with life. As time goes by, I have chosen to do the latter, and have made no space for the stones. But I know that I have killed off a part of myself with that strategy. Is that the better way?
(By the way, re flights, have you ever wrapped up lots of little presents for the kids, and then let them open one every 20 or 30 minutes? Small things – nothing special. Instead of just giving them a coloring book and crayons, have it wrapped up. Instead of just giving them a snack, have it wrapped up. You can use different wrapping paper for the edible treats so you know what you’re giving. Not sure if your youngest is old enough for this, but it works a treat with toddlers. The excitement of a whole bag of presents! The only problem is making them last – but you explain beforehand about that. I’ve never been stopped by security, but I suppose that is a risk.)
Man, I missed ‘home’ enough today anyways, and then this… thank you (I say tearfully). Being an expat can be so lovely, but so hard sometimes. Thank you for writing what so many of us feel.
the lot of the expat:to be homesick everywhere, and “home” nowhere. *sigh*
Have a wonderful trip, and thanks for the lovely post. We just had a visit from my brother and sister in law, and I am feeling the same pangs for my home and family (though I rarely find the food tastes better in the UK, and when I travel there I am always delighted to get back to California sushi, burritos, and lovely fruit and veg. and sunshine)
i feel this way every time i come to visit you guys. i’m always so excited, trying to squeeze in all the things i want to do and see, but in the back of my mind the end of the trip is always lurking, threatening to bring me to tears if i let it. but you’re right – once you’re back home normal life resumes and you just start planning for the next one, giving yourself another great thing to look forward to. i can’t wait to see you!!
Wow, this is the second great post in a row I’ve read from you. Another one I can really relate to. I don’t know how to deal with the whole family abroad thing. Not for me, I can do without my parents and sister for long periods of time. But I think my kids should have an opportunity to get to know their grandparents and have a relationship with them like I did with mine. But I just don’t know how it is going to work.
@andrea – I hope so too, lady.
@Lyn – Only one week now!
@Morgaine – Wow, that is a really long time. Two years seems like nothing now. I hope you get to visit soon.
@Nicola – Looks like we’re swapping places! I hope you have a great time in the UK and manage to abate the sadness of leaving somehow. A fun diversion upon your return is a great idea.
@Iota – I used to be a professional stone-chucker and didn’t let it bother me too much but ever since I had kids I’ve found it incredibly difficult. It’s more on their behalf, and my parents and sister’s, that my sadness feels unbearable. Having my two families not be able to have regular face-to-face interaction just breaks my heart. Great idea about wrapping everything up for TNC to open!
@Jamey – I hope my post didn’t make you too homesick! Thanks for the lovely comment.
@Jen – So true.
@geekymummy – Ha ha! The comment about not missing the UK food made me giggle a bit.
@andrea – That’s us, eternal pessimists.
One week!
@A Free Man – Thanks. And yes, it’s more the struggle with how to get my kids and parents and sister to have a close relationship as time goes on, without the opportunity for lots of face-to-face contact. It can be done, I’m sure, but it’s hard to think about.
What can I say? I know how you feel, being an expat as well. Once a colleague and friend of mine, expat and refugee from Pakistan, her husband from Afghanistan, their child born in Scotland, when leaving the city we shared for a few years, said that home is in her heart and not in a place. Wise words.
Enjoy every moment of your trip, NS! It looks like we will be going home around the same time. I’m staying for two months, and it will be like a renewal for me. It will be great to be a daughter again!
Oh wow, this post really hit me hard.
It puts into words so much of the anxiety I feel about going home. i need to go home, but at the same time it’s so emotionally difficult to do so and I feel like I sigh a huge sigh of relief when it’s over, I mean, when it’s really over and I’ve gotten over the grief of leaving again.
I totally identify with resenting your partner too. I do it, I know I do it, and I can’t stop myself from doing it. I just end up blaming him for taking me from them and that’s so sad because he loves them all and wants me to be happy and be with them when I can.
It’s weird this living abroad thing. It’s so much harder than I thought it would be. And I knew it would be really hard. The adjusting and forgetting is also surprising too, though, on the other hand.
Sorry for the rambly comment.