Isolationism

A letter from—and a phone call to—two dear friends yesterday reminded me of how dearly I miss those close to my heart who have moved abroad, be it for a change of scenery or pace, an exciting new career, an opportunity to discover new places or potential hidden within, or to be closer to family.

At times like these I talk to Becka and commiserate: We really do miss you all very, very much. It takes a couple minutes to remind myself that once, a few years ago, I might have moved away from Ottawa and all my friends to pursue a career (in a place much less glamourous or desirable than any of you!). Right around then is when I remember that Becka has sacrificed no less to live with me and start a family, which is when I begin to understand how her friends and family back home must feel with her being here now.

Your absence becomes all the more unbearable now that we’ve been blessed with a baby, and want to share our joy with our close friends, to let you hold him, listen to him coo, and maybe favour you with a smile; we’ve also been blessed with health and happiness, more than we have the right to ask. These realisations heap shame on my shoulders for not having shared more of the birth and raising of your children, and guilt that we should be so blessed when others have been hoping for a child to love and spoil for so long.

To Michel and Adrienne, my long-time friends: I hope life in London is rich with professional, educational, and enjoyable experiences for both of you, and that you are kept safe from harm’s way. We hope very much to see you again during the holiday season at the end of the year.

To Marc, my confidant: Please try not to work harder or longer than you need to in Taiwan; when the day is done you’re there for the experience, so make sure you experience it from angles besides the front of a classroom—and when the job is done, we would really love to welcome you back home.

To MCM, my accomplice: My best to the beautiful and charming three ladies in your life, and all my hopes are with you for the tough times now and ahead. You’re one of the hardest-working and most resolute people I have the pleasure of knowing; I am sure you will help navigate your family through whatever should come your way. ‘Til all are one.

To Alex, my philosopher: Weeknights at the Westin may be long behind us but our friendship endures. I hope you find happiness in the search for the perfect career where you can relish in the expression of your immense and admirable artistic talents. If ever you feel lonely, I’m only ever a phone call away.

… And to all, we can’t wait to see you again, and for you to meet the new addition to our small but happy family.