Living Far Away is Hard

Living far away from your family is hard (even when you have family really close by too.) I've lived at least a few hours away from my family for many years now. The past four years I have lived at least 6 hrs from my family and 9 hours most recently. Nine hours doesn't seem like a long time does it? Really not more than a days work, but it really is far away when you consider a 9 hour drive. It always seems to me that somewhere is a lot farther away when you add up how many hours it takes to get somewhere.

Most days it isn't too bad living far from my family. I think when things are going well and people are enjoying happy moments it is fun to share in those moments via telephone conversations, e-mails, blogs, facebook, snail mail, and espn (yeah that is what it is). I wish I could be there for those moments (and I make plans to make it home for as many of the big events as I can), but it still tugs at my heart a bit that I can't be there whenever I want.

Some days it is downright difficult to be so far away. This past weekend brought that point glaringly into the forefront of my mind. Saturday I found out the one of my best friends in Ohio lost her mother after a lengthy health battle that spanned a few years. Nope, she isn't a blood relative-but she is my family. I love Chantell like a sister (and I already have a few of those so I'm extra choosy in who I include). We have a special friendship that no matter how long it has been since we've seen each other we can pick right up where we left off. A few weeks ago I knew it might not be long before Chantell would have to bid her mother farewell and I remember waiting intently as my own mother texted me updates about how Chantell's mom was doing in surgery and shortly thereafter. I wanted to be there with my buddy, holding her hand as she patiently waited for news-but the best I could do was sit here miles away, wait and offer my moral support via telephone. It was a long and restless night as I waited to find out if her mom was going to make it through the next 24 hrs. She made it and continued her fight a bit longer, but she finally had to give it up. Her body just couldn't take any more and her daughter is left missing her. I am left missing her and wishing I could be there to support by best friend. I wanted to hop on a plane immediately so I could be there with her. Instead, here I sit thinking of my friend and knowing that no words can make it better, but knowing she knows I support her and would be there if I could.

Also, on Saturday night my own mother was feeling terribly ill. We thought it was the flu, but couldn't quite tell if it was something more severe or not. After several phone calls all around the sisters determined if she wasn't feeling better by Sunday morning she was headed to the hospital whether she liked it or not. (I do mean several calls...Maggie to Katie, Katie to Me, Katie to Dad, Maggie to Dad, Me to Maggie, me to Mom...I think you get the idea...and trying to sort out exactly how mom was feeling, her symptoms, her temperature, etc.) Thankfully she was feeling much better Sunday morning, but once again I was left feeling helpless many miles away.

So yeah, living far away is hard...