Although the topic is a bit sad because nobody likes to talk about death, especially if we are part of a culture that does not deal very well with this loss, it's my case. But I decided to tell you about my experience.
In 2008, when the opportunity arose for my husband to move abroad to Jamaica, my beloved father was already ill with a rare syndrome, an incurable degenerative disease. Although my father was fully conscious, his physical part was fragile. At the time, I already had three children: my oldest was twelve years old, my middle child was nine years old, and my youngest was three years old.
Throughout my life, I have accompanied my family in the many changes we have made in Brazil due to my father's career, so this nomadic life has always been part of my reality since I was very young. When I got married, I continued moving within Brazil, and because my father was retired, he, my mother, and my sister accompanied us on our moves. But this time, in 2008, the offer made to my husband was his first international opportunity. So I had a dilemma: go to Jamaica or stay in Brazil.
If I told my husband that I wouldn't accompany him because of my father, he would lose this opportunity because going alone was not an alternative for him. By not going, I would be taking away his chance to have an international professional experience, which was very important for his career. At the same time, I would be depriving my children of learning another language, broadening their worldview, and getting to know another culture, other places, and all the opportunities that a change of country involves. So I decided to talk to my husband about my personal anxieties and put all my cards on the table.
I proposed to my husband that every time I understood that my father needed me, whether it was because of his health problems or not, I would go to Brazil, so he agreed. Then I went to talk to my father, explained the offer, and before I could even proceed with my plans, he told me, "Go, don't miss this opportunity for your husband and the children. I'll be fine." At that moment, I saw the nomad speaking. I told him what my husband and I had agreed. I noticed that adventurous father who always loved seeing new places and making new friends. So we left for Jamaica, and our assignment would be for three years.
Over almost three years, I flew from Jamaica to Brazil several times, as agreed. However, in January 2010, my mother called me saying that my father was in the hospital but that he had asked her to tell me that everything was fine and that there was no need for me to go to him. So I asked my mother to let him know that I was coming and knew that as soon as I was near him, he would be out of the Intensive care unit. It is worth mentioning that my father's hospitalizations happened frequently and that I did not always go to Brazil.
That time, an inner voice told me: "don't miss this opportunity to be with your father now." And what happened? The next day I left for Brazil alone, and it is worth clarifying that every time I had gone to Brazil before, I had taken my youngest daughter with me, who was six years old.
Upon arriving in my city, I went straight to the hospital. My father was in intensive care, and my family was in one of the hospital rooms. As soon as I arrived, I went to talk to my mother, and a hospital employee approached me and asked my father's family to identify themselves. At that moment, I froze and thought the worst. However, it was to advise that my father was coming down from the Intensive care unit to the apartment. Relief! And as promised, as soon as I arrived, he left the Intensive care unit, coincidence? I don't know, but it happened, and I was pleased. I spent with my father in that hospital for about 20 days (I don't remember exactly how many days), and somehow I knew it was our farewell.
Because of his health problems, it wasn't easy to understand what he was saying. So we created mechanisms that facilitated communication, and even facing that problematic situation, we had fun. Then he asked me to take him home, and we set up a task force to fulfill his request. I told my husband and children that I would only return when he was home. We organized the home care and left for home. I spent four more days with him at home and had to return to Jamaica.
I agreed with my father during those days that I would not be there if the worst happened. And it was the best decision because all my memories of my father are of him alive. The last words I heard from my father were, "I love you. Thank you for everything, my daughter." And I replied, "I love you so much. You have nothing to thank me for. I haven't done enough, and I wish I could have done much, much more." I kissed and hugged my father, knowing that it was our last hug, our last kiss.
And as if by magic, he fell into a deep sleep in his comfortable armchair. We both knew that we were saying goodbye, and maybe like me, he kept in his heart until his departure, that last image of me, close to him, letting him know how much he was loved. I keep with me to this day, with great affection, that tranquility he showed in his sleep, and that is the last image I have of my beloved father. Nine days later, he passed away.
In reality, these constant comings and goings from Jamaica to Brazil to see my father and the opportunity I had to be with him in this last month of his life are very precious to me. The whole process of the syndrome that affected my father until his departure made me see life and death through a very different prism than the one I had until then. Nothing was left unsaid, which gives me a lot of peace that I don't even know how to express.
Like me, many people living abroad, far from their beloved families, are faced with situations like these, and there is no right or wrong way to deal with it all. Each person is unique and has their particular way of dealing with difficult situations. The purpose of this sharing is to say that you are not alone and that the fact that you are living abroad in difficult moments like these is not a reason for guilt or judgment because it is all part of life, wherever you are.