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The sacrifices we make

The sacrifices we make

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Heads up my lovely online friends, this post is more emotional than usual. I wrote this after spending the last 2-3 weeks visiting a close family member who has been seriously ill. If you want to read something happier, you should hit the back button or have a read of some of my other posts!

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We always talk about the glamor of always being on the road, the wonders of travel. What we don’t talk about is what we miss when we are away.

Recently, a close family member of mine fell seriously ill.

My grandmother has been constant in my life ever since I was born. Seeing her health suddenly deteriorate from being an active 95-year-old who always smiled and laughed to being bedridden and unable to open her eyes has been heartbreaking.

When I was growing up, she lived in Malaysia, which is about a 7 hr flight away from my home in Melbourne, Australia. We visited every year, and she also flew to Australia to stay with us for a month every year.

As she got older, we tried to visit as often as we could. Before I moved to the US, I made sure to visit her before I left the Southern Hemisphere.

But at times like this, I can’t help but wonder. Should I have visited more often? Logically, my mind tells me I visited as often as I should.

But my heart tells me that the time I had with her was not enough. Because when it comes to the ones you love, all the time in the world is never enough.

I could have spent every waking hour with my grandmother, and I still think it would not have been enough.

I could listen to her stories on repeat; several times a day. I still remember her insistence that I drink more water because the weather was hot. I miss her chuckles and her smiles. Every night without fail she would point out the cute cats on her hello kitty pajamas before bedtime.

I could have these moments every single day, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

So, what is the answer?

I don’t know.

I took the decision to live away from home because I wanted zero regrets, I wanted to see more of the world. I wanted to experience living in another country.

I wanted to live “closer” to the rest of the world. I wanted to see more; experience more.

As ridiculous as this sounds, I never thought that by making this decision I would see less of my family. By taking up my dream of traveling more, living away from home, I would sacrifice time with family.

Sometimes, it’s the unconscious decisions we make that create the most regret. The decisions you don’t even realize you’re making until it’s too late.

Again, I wonder, what is the answer?

There is no answer, no perfect solution.

Do I regret moving?

My mind says no; I’ve had amazing experiences in the last 6 months I’ve been here.

My heart says yes. I do regret it because moving to the US places me further away from the ones I love.

Maybe, this is something that time will heal. Maybe I will be able to see more clearly when my heart has had a chance to come to grips with the pain.


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