Saying Goodbye to England

The last few months have been tough. The three of us have been juggling an array of emotions as we prepare our journey back home. The liberty of a leisure Sunday stroll into town has now been swapped with packing.  We are slowly finding new homes for the items we have accumulated the last three years.  Moving here had its own struggles, leaving is proving to be the same but for different reasons.

I am learning to take in the moments of happiness, even amid grief. I find myself in a peculiar situation in which I am joyfully immersed in our quaint English life, but it is stained with the knowledge it will soon be only memories. What was supposed to be a two-year jaunt to be able to travel more easily has evolved to a period in our lives that has changed how we see what is important in our everyday life.

Winchester Cathedral

In the 1600s during the English Civil War Winchester was the capital of England. The Cathedral represented King Charles I, and he believed he ruled by divine right, giving him the authority to raise taxes as he wished. Parliament protested and in 1642 they destroyed the majority of the cathedral including throwing rocks through the primary west glassed window. After the soldiers left the townspeople came around and picked up as much of the glass as they could and stored it in boxes under their beds in hope that when things improved the windows could be rebuilt.

A lifetime later in 1658 the Winchester community brought out their boxes of glass to see if they could put the West Window’s biblical scene back together. It proved an impossible task. Instead, they gathered all the bits of broken glass and made a mosaic, resulting in what exists now, a glorious window.

Community

For me the window represents the endurance of the community, and with it came together a beautiful window. The sense of community is something we have witnessed whilst living here, especially during the pandemic. Being part of this community has been a gift. We first felt it when we joined our street (the Honeysuckle’s) WhatsApp group. A group of people that make you welcome signs when you have been gone for more than a week or that bring in our rubbish (garbage) bins without a request.  And then we saw another layer of community when we became assistance leaders of Alvin’s cub pack, the Scouting community.  And of course, my work family, hard-working diligent carers from near and far. Now, when we walk into town, we always run into someone from our community. This only after three years of living here.

And now we find ourselves saying goodbye to this English community. I have never embraced a placed like I have England. Maybe that is why it is hard to leave. Always a nomad at heart, I’ve always felt most comfortable on the move yet here, within these communities, I found a home.

Life in England

As you walked into our home you could tell our life here was temporary, a mismatch of free furniture. We thought two years living overseas was going to be enough but when the two-year anniversary arrived, it felt like a blink. Therefore, we decided to let Alvin finish primary school here adding another two years to our original plan. But the universe had other plans.

Last Christmas we celebrated with friends who happen to be another expat family. Both of us without family around we joined together. But it highlighted our physical separation from our loved ones. The only comfort was knowing the following Christmas would be our last in England. It was going to be the start of many lasts, last Guy Fawkes celebration, last Hat Festival, last neighbourhood street party.

Spring

However, as spring arrived family was calling. First it was minor incidents, a bike accident with one of the older boys and personal frustration not being home to help heal his wounds. My mother and stepfather requiring additional medical needs and not being close enough to talk to the doctors in real time.

And then this April, the unexpected passing of my brother-in-law, one of the most gentle, kind souls I have known. He was young in my eyes, only a few years older than Gary. He had a heart attack, very unexpectedly, and was taken too soon from our family. Grief overtook us. The reality he would not have any more lasts. He had an appointment scheduled the week after he died to get his passport renewed. So he could visit us. His time with us over. That stark reality made us realize that our love for England is outweighed by our love for our family. We want our lasts to be around family.

We are still grieving; it comes in waves. Grief for my brother-in-law. Gary’s last surviving brother. Grief for leaving a country we have fallen in love with. We now will not have our planned lasts like we had imagined. But it is a reminder to cherish every moment, you never know when it will be your last.

Preparing to Leave

We have two weeks left in England and are cherishing the moments. Our bucket list of places to see was cut short but not due to time, but because we have enjoyed being home. Being in Winchester, taking long walks on the South Downs Way. Or day trips to obscure pubs. We are sneaking in weekend trips to the Jurassic Coast. But it is also the small treasures, the sunrise peeking in through the bathroom window. The difficulty distinguishing my chirping alarm from the birds outside. Our weekend walks along the clear water of the Itchen River. Or the pink sunsets on Whiteshute ridge.

A temporary move has left a permanent imprint. I did not know life could feel so safe and secure. No gun violence, no lockdown drills or fears as I go on jogs at 9pm. Giving Alvin the liberty to walk to the park on his own without concern. Even knowing that Gary’s medications are all covered on the NHS. I will not only miss the beauty of England but also the security it has provided. Minor stresses that have been relieved, I only hope to carry that calmness back to the US.

Lessons Learned/Learnt

I have learnt not only about a different health care system (a dedicated post coming soon) but also life as a foreigner. I have learnt to not ask “where are you from” but “tell me about your accent.” People often ask us where we are from. We understand what they want to know, but we are currently from Winchester. We now can empathize with the pain of arriving to a country with a solid job but still no credit history.  And hence not being able to get a cell phone contract or a credit card.

I am also keenly aware of the privilege that comes with being an American citizen. My peers of international nurses cannot pick up and travel the manner our family has done. They must apply and wait to get a Schengen Visa which allows them to visit the European Union. Even UK citizens must apply for a visa to come to the USA, which requires sending in your passport. Yet here we are exploring as much of EU as time and money will allow without a worry whether we are allowed in the country. The liberty associated with being an American citizen is one I do not ever take for granted.

Saying Goodbye

We are leaving our beloved second home. We are exchanging walks in the moors for sitting at the edge of the Pudget Sound, taking in the saltwater breeze. Or afternoons in the pub with friends, for neighbours who whistle as they walk through our front door. We leave behind weekend trips to Malta but soon enough will have spontaneous family dinners, and the liberty to return when our hearts desire.

When we arrived the world was shattered, the peak of the pandemic. But as I looked up at the west window of the cathedral last fall, I realized no matter how shattered things seem, like the window, it can be put back together. We feel shattered as well but are healing with the little treasures England has taught us. The value of a good long walk. The therapeutic power of a cuppa (cup of tea). The value of living with less in a smaller house. The slower calmer way of life. We are taking all these little bits back home.  Even as we say goodbye, with sadness, we are being put back together by community. The community of neighbours, of nurses, of Scouts, of expats all which have changed us. Thank you, England.