It's quite amazing how a brush with death concentrates the mind. My mother had a mild stroke this week. In England of course and I am in Aus. She is fine and back home now and sounds so grateful to be there and is making gentle jokes about what a much longer shopping trip it was than she meant it to be. Humour is always a good sign. And now she is fine and back home with my Dad, I can relax here and send the little presents over as an apology and a guilt offering for not being there myself. She tells me she misses her daughter - I know what that is like.
It's quite hard. It makes me think then of all the family I have in other places and how much I want to be with them, and not even with them but be able to have ready access to them in times of need, theirs or mine. I love it here in Aus, I don't think I could actually live anywhere else, certainly not in rainy and light-challenged England. If I was there, of course, I'd be missing my children and the very good friends I have here. I'm not sure I can recommend emmigrating - you can then never go back. Never. You are always torn between two worlds.
I have nephews and nieces in Blighty that I chat to on facespace every so often and see their photo's and laugh at the things they say, they are so YOUNG, and vital and it tears me up sometimes. It would be so nice for my kids to have access to their cousins, they are all of an age and might, might even like each other. It would have given my daughter other choices wouldn't it, for advice and people to talk to when she needed them and I did not live up to her needs.
Oh god, I'm in a bad head space right now. See what I mean? A near death experience really concentrates the mind.