One would think that by now I’d be used to saying goodbye and letting go, time after time after time. But the truth is that (for me), it becomes harder with every morning that I wake.
My dad’s been living in a different hemisphere for years now, and as some kind of coping mechanism, you do learn to adjust to being one parent down. Except, it’s not quite that, is it? I’m aware that many families are (unfortunately) separated these days, and that’s pretty much all I’ve known. Also, two of my best friends have lost their parents and I’ve always felt in an awkward position when thinking about their situations and mine. In some ways I can relate, but obviously the circumstances couldn’t be more different.
As I mentioned, time had provided me with some kind of ability to cope with the hand that the world has dealt me. But ever since I got to spend time with all of my siblings and family together (which should be standard - it should be normal), it now feels as though (excuse the cliché) that there’s a part of me missing. I don’t feel quite whole.
An hour or so on Skype a week just isn’t enough. My brother starts school this year and I should be the one waiting at the gates after his first day, packing his lunch, helping him with his homework… Not to mention the years of their lives that I’ve already missed. Their first nativity, their first walk, word, smile…
I’m constantly torn, stretched if you will, between my life here and the short time that I’ve spent in N.Z. My core seems to reside here, yet part of my heart and essence seems to have stayed at the airport each time I had to re-break my heart and turn my back on the ones I love.
