Shortly after I was first married, my husband and I moved from the GTA to Calgary. At the time it was a big and fun and exciting thing to do. We were close to the Rocky Mountains and we skied a lot. We enjoyed the smaller city that Calgary was at the time, and we found that our housing dollar went a lot further here than it did back in Toronto. The first few years were fun and adventurous as we explored our new surroundings, but I would be lying if I didn’t say I felt isolated.
I had left a promising career in the very busy head office of Rogers Communications to move to a smaller, regional office. I became a slightly bigger fish, yes, but in a much smaller pond. I had been used to having dozens of colleagues and scores of friends around me at work, but after the move I found myself in an office where I was the boss of pretty much everyone except one colleague (who very clearly didn’t like me much) and my own boss. Which meant it wasn’t the best environment for making friends. And during my off-work time, I never seemed to meet anyone I could cultivate a friendship with. Plus: I had been used to living in the midst of a very tight but extensive family network. I had two sisters and my parents close-by, along with dozens (literally) of aunts, uncles and cousins in the local area as well. There was pretty much not a weekend that went by without some kind of family gathering or barbecue or pool party. But all that vanished when we moved out West, to be replaced by twice-yearly visits.
But even though the loneliness and isolation I felt then occasionally drove me to teary conversations with my husband, it was nothing to the pain and loss I would feel after my children were born. Basically, from the day my Mom went back to Toronto about two weeks after my first daughter was born (9.5 years ago now), I felt a profound longing to return to where my roots were.
Now, it’s not like I’ve spent nearly a decade depressed and crying and begging to go home (and isn’t it telling that even after a dozen years here in Alberta I still think of Toronto as home?), but if you had offered me the chance, on any given day since then, to move back? I would have emphatically answered “YES!!! When does the flight leave???”
Just another family Christmas I missed.
Since my daughters have started school I’ve made some great (and lasting) friendships, and we’ve been blessed that our children attend a wonderful and nurturing school populated by kids equally as great as they are. I do feel like I have a support network here: if I get called away on a last-minute job (I’m a substitute teacher, so it happens a lot) I know there are people who will happily look after my kids for me. If I run out of cumin or sugar or tabasco sauce, I have neighbours who will happily fix me up with what I need to fix dinner. If we go away on holiday, there are lots of people who will feed our pets, water our plants and collect our mail.
But…it’s still not home. And I’ve known for some time now that it never will be. Because for me, home is about more than a good real estate market and no provincial sales tax. Home is about more than job opportunities and privatized liquor stores. To me, home is where I left my heart, and that heart is back in Toronto. It’s in the throbbing lights of the big city, the cultural richness of its museums and theatre, the diversity of its people, the broad-leafed maple trees and the shores of Lake Ontario. It’s in my sister’s kitchen, in an easy conversation with my Dad, in family get-togethers at my Aunts’ and Uncles’ back yards in the suburbs.
They may be crazy, but they’re mine and I love ’em.
Even my kids long for that home that they’ve barely known. We spent an entire summer there last year, and they became accustomed to seeing their own cousins and other extended family frequently. They have been asking (begging, even) to move closer to their grandparents, cousins and other relatives. They know the importance of family, even though they’ve largely grown up without it.
My Dad playing with my niece. My kids are not there. Because they never are. Because we live in Calgary.
Jen’s post today really hit a nerve with me, because it’s about my Dad (for those who didn’t know it before, we’re sisters). I’ve always loved and admired my Dad, and I’ve always really enjoyed his company. But since my Mom died, that relationship, that connection, has gotten a lot deeper. He visited me and my family back in October, and I was amazed at how happy and comfortable and comforted I felt when he was here. I love him and I miss him a TON. I miss him so much that it’s like a physical pain. I recently saw a picture of him on facebook (posted by a member of that amazing extended family network) and I actually cried to see it.
You see, one of my enduring and most painful regrets is that I feel I really missed out on what turned out to be the last ten years of my Mom’s life, by living so far away and only seeing her about twice a year. My kids missed out on seeing and knowing their amazing Gramma more during that time. And if I learned anything from my Mom’s illness and death, it’s that you never know when the gift of health and life might be taken away from you or a loved one. And I don’t want to wind up feeling that my daughters and I missed the last years of my Dad’s life, either.
So me? I’m thinking very, very seriously of getting back to my roots. Of reuniting with my heart, which I left back in Southern Ontario.
Thank you to everyone for all your supportive comments – they mean so much to me. Hopefully I’ll be able to go home again (for good this time) soon.
Oh Kath. that was such a beautiful and heart-wrenching post. i’m from New Brunswick, and definitely have a special spot for that place. However, because my family is here now – small as my family is – they make Toronto my home. I totally understand how you feel. My mum left a big extended family and social network in India to move to rural NB with my dad. As much and as successfully as she integrated, I know her heart was back home.
Oh ok…now that I’m over the shock of knowing your family…
My middle sister moved to BC when she was 18 and planted her roots there.
Her absence has never been felt more than when we each gave birth to daughters 6 days apart. I think everyday how much fun these little girls would have growing up together.
On Sunday, I went to my oldest sisters house for Mothers day. My mom came along with the kids and I and I totally missed my middle sister being there. I’m pretty sure my mom felt it more…
I wish she would move back. But I know she never will. Unlike you, Kath – she LOVES it out there.
OMFG – I have goosebumps.
SMALL WORLD.
That’s all I’m gonna say on a public page!!!!!!
You sisters are KILLING me today!!! Kath I was just so weepy reading this and was already on edge after Jen’s. It’s a very tough balance. We have three sisters – two of us live here and our best friends and my other one is far away. I know she has a really hard time with it and that my niece would love to live in Toronto. I keep telling her that it’s her choice – I hope she doesn’ look back on it with regret.
It’s easy to say – but also not as hard to do as people think – come home!! (I’d love to hang out with you!)
Please come home. xo