Photo: Dennis H. Cosley November 1930 – August 2011
Most expats* I know want to be overseas. There is no single reason that attracts us to this crazy life: some I know suffer from incurable wanderlust, others crave new experiences, and still others seek opportunity and fortune.
My husband, Erik, and I many years ago bonded over our shared love of travel and planned with relish our first trip abroad together. We plotted our first move overseas even before we were engaged and relocated to London three weeks after our wedding. We’ve been living outside the US, more or less, ever since. “Cursed with wanderlust,” is a phrase my college friend, Jennifer, once said about me, but it could be used to describe many I know.
Though we wanderlusters choose – even embrace – our expat lifestyle, it comes with a price. We miss things. We miss holidays and milestones – birthdays, marriages, and christenings. We miss a nephew’s graduation, a family friend’s wedding shower, and a high school buddy’s surprise birthday party.
When we do make it to these important events, we do crazy things to get there and pay insane amounts of money to make the travel work. A couple of years ago, I was determined to be with my father on his eightieth birthday, leaving my baby and husband the day after Christmas to fly from Hong Kong to New York City for the celebration. Three days later I boarded a plane for the return trip to Hong Kong. Was it worth it? Absolutely. These are the events that shape our life.
But sometimes it just doesn’t work. Last fall, my friend, Susan, had her heart set on attending a party to celebrate her mother’s birthday. At the last minute, airfares between Dallas and Beijing went up dramatically and schedules shifted. In the end, she had to make the difficult decision to stay home.
These situations are unfortunate; but they don’t compare to those that are unplanned or unexpected, such as a death in the family. I learned yesterday, after returning from an outing to my daughter’s school, that my stepfather had passed away. I wasn’t there; instead, I was settling into my new life in Singapore, and my husband was on a business trip to Korea. While my family members were together, sharing stories, crying and consoling each other, I was 8,000 miles away.
I posted a favorite photo of the man we called, “Denny,” to Facebook but words seemed inadequate to express the depth of love and respect so many of us held for this man, whom I have known almost as long as my father. An avid backpacker, Denny took my brothers, his own children and me on hikes where he taught us to love and respect the mountains. An intellect, he helped me with homework and taught me to seek out knowledge. A musician, he played his trombone (with my mother on accordian) while we kids danced and later taught me about jazz. A wit, he was renowned for his clever (and silly) puns and taught me to laugh at the ridiculous. Feisty in politics, he stood firmly in his beliefs and taught me not to settle. A gifted storyteller, he spun a good tale and taught me to appreciate words.
Thank you, Denny. You are gone, but your legacy continues in those who loved you best. Do I still like living overseas? Not today.
*Short for “expatriate,” a term used to refer to those who live outside the country of their passports