That distance, that sometimes unbearable distance.

On our way to Wave Rock

Sisters

She has gone back home; the lingering fragrance of her perfume. Am I sad? No, I am not sad at all!

I am satisfied and I am happy with the time we spent together and I am also happy to see how this holiday positively affected her.

For three weeks my sister travelled through Australia by herself: looking around, discovering the country, discovering herself. And when she came back to Perth after her travels, she treated us to her fascinating experiences, her observations and her analytical conclusions.

No, I am not sad and neither am I upset that she has left but my goodness, her absence hurts so badly.

I think and I ponder. Living in Australia means living with this constant distance. The distance between a mother and her daughter, between sisters and brother; living in Australia means living without my loved ones.

Living in Australia means taking my loved ones back to the international airport to see them go through customs and to be left alone, again.  And when I wonder if living in Australia is worth this pain I say “yes” it is, of course it is, I would not wish it any other way.

I once exchanged my country of birth for this sun burnt, endless country called Australia at the other side of the world; it was the best I ever did.  And with that move to Australia came a void that will always linger in the back of my mind, a pain that sits on the bottom of my heart, a missing that hides in the pit of my stomach. The separation from my family, especially now that my parents grow older, is sometimes unbearable but it is the price I pay for following my heart, to move to Australia, my chosen country.

My sister has gone  home and her plane flew over the back garden while B and I drank white wine in the night. I remember how she said to have her own room in Australia and how she will return to that room; so no farewell just see you again.

She is leaving

She is leaving

That distance, oh that sometimes unbearable distance.

Tomorrow morning I will walk around the lake without my sister and the missing of her will cut through me like the sharpest knife but what can I do?

My sister's plane

My sister’s plane

There is nothing I can do but move on as life goes on; the hurt will fade whilst the memories and the photographs will stay, forever.

Sisters

Sisters

 

2 thoughts on “That distance, that sometimes unbearable distance.

  1. margo vonk

    Hè, so this is my unexpected Australian reader. A dutchie. Nice. I enjoy Reading your strugle to live so far from our cold and cosy country. Juist after your sister left, the distance must be unbearable. But what a beautiful place to live.
    Geniet ervan.

    Reply
    1. Lianna Parker Post author

      Leuk he om zo over elkaar’s levens te lezen. Veel plezier met alles. Overigens, in het meer tegenover ons huis hebben wij zwarte zwanen; witte zwanen komen hier niet voor.

      Reply

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