The Hardest Journey: When an Expat Gets the Call No One Wants

There are many kinds of travel, most of them exciting, filled with anticipation and curiosity. But then, there are journeys you never want to make—the ones you dread, yet have to embark on when you’re living thousands of miles away from family. For expats, this is the hardest part: when you get the call that your mother or father has fallen ill back home.

Suddenly, the world feels impossibly vast. You can’t just hop on your bike or jump in the car and be there in a few hours. No, for many of us, “going home” means a marathon journey across continents and oceans. In my case, it’s a grueling 36-hour journey, each minute heavy with worry and longing. While you sit in airports and try to doze off in cramped airplane seats, your mind is somewhere else entirely—at the bedside of your loved one, willing them to hold on until you arrive.

This is already the second time this year that I’ve had to make this journey for this reason, and it’s only May. There’s a kind of weary routine I’m falling into: booking the first available ticket, throwing some clothes into a bag, and notifying friends that I’ll be gone for an unknown stretch of time. But this time feels different. The situation is more serious; my mother’s condition is critical, and the fear that I might not have enough time weighs on me with every passing hour.

I am so deeply grateful that Lizz is with me on this journey. She is my anchor, my comfort, and my support. Her presence is a quiet reassurance in the chaos of packing, airport queues, and the endless monotony of travel.

Together, we pray that my mother pulls through, that she keeps fighting, that I can see her smile again.

Being an expat means building a life somewhere new, but it also means you’re always a little bit divided—your heart anchored in more than one place. When crisis strikes, the distance feels unbearable. All you want is to be at your loved one’s side, to hold their hand, to let them know you’re there. The hours in transit are filled with hope, fear, and memories, as you brace yourself for what awaits on the other side.

If you are an expat going through something similar, know that you are not alone. The ache of distance is something we all carry. Hold onto your loved ones near and far, and never underestimate the power of a kind word, a prayer, or a presence—whether in person or in spirit.

For now, I cling to hope, to faith, and to the love that connects us, no matter how many miles lie between.