I've had better days.
This week, I intended to write happy blog posts about our recent trips to Italy and Safranbolu, Turkey. But life had other plans for me.
My dad is sick in the hospital in Nebraska, and I think I'm going to make an emergency trip back home to the US to help out my family. I'm needed back home, and that's all I can think about.
These are the days I hate being an expat and being so far away from family.
The distance makes me go crazy.
I feel helpless.
I feel scared.
I don't like not knowing.
And there's always the time difference between Turkey and the U.S.
I also feel responsible because I'm the oldest sibling. I feel like I need to take charge and help out. But how can I do that when I'm 7,000 miles away from my parents?
I worry about my dad. I've always been a bit of a daddy's girl. He taught me to ride a bike, took me fishing, yelled at me during my first driving lessons, encouraged me to become a chef, and was supportive of our move abroad to Turkey.
|1997 - Dad and me preparing to attend a Nebraska football game.|
It's been difficult to see him hooked up to IVs and see him in a hospital. He tells me not to worry, but how can I not?
Being an expat isn't always glamorous. Or easy.
Some days are tough.
At the end of the day, I miss my dad.