On Monday I was sitting in a chair in Seattle. It was an adorable studio that matched the house it sits behind.
It had weathered wooden shakes that were different sizes and shapes and unevenly arranged. There were strings of colored lights draped here and there. Everything about it screamed artists live here.
It was the workspace for a tattoo artist. Jos was her name. And as I sat in the chair, my daughter Emily sitting close by, I couldn’t help but be completely consumed with what was happening.
We were decorating our forearms with matching witch hat and broom tats. We’re huge Wicked fans. I was so happy and sad at the same time, I could barely feel the sting of the needle piercing my skin.
It was the thing we wanted to do together before I moved to Australia, which was happening in exactly one week.
Getting to this point has not been easy. Not even close. There’s been the physical part of it. Selling most everything we own, bringing only what we need for the next couple of months. The rest went into storage.
I’ve already written about that part, but what I haven’t yet shared is how I’m feeling about actually leaving.
The truth is, I’m heartbroken.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m also excited for what awaits us in Australia. There’s a family there that I adore.
My wise father-in-law with his dry and hilarious wit.
There’s my brother-in-law. He’s the masculine ADHD version of Cade, and hasn’t quite figured out my extreme tendency towards sarcasm.
Then there’s his girlfriend who I only know well enough to say I can’t wait to steal her away for shopping, wine drinking, and gossiping about being the partners to Cade and his brother.
She’s about to have a baby shortly after I arrive. I’m stoked to be a guncle again.
But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m leaving behind my own family. My parents and my daughters.
Tuesday morning I said goodbye to my daughter-in-law Sara before she left for work. A few hours later I hugged Emily, got into the passenger seat of our rental car, and as Cade drove us away I broke. I wasn’t just sad. I was in pain, and it was unbearable.
My thoughts turned to my daughter Ashley. She followed our footsteps into yachting. I haven’t seen her in a year. It feels impossible now that I will be in the same place at the same time as her.
Then my parents in Minnesota. My mom is nearly 80, and I’m going to live on the other side of the planet. No words can help me process how much that hurts.
At least I got to hug Emily.
We’ll be back in a couple of months. We have plans to visit a couple of times per year. But there’s something about the distance. From everything I know. It feels final, and it’s going to take time to be ok with it.
Wednesday morning we had one last veterinarian appointment for Chase in Portland to get his approval to enter Australia. He will fly to Melbourne and go into quarantine for ten days. I’m not even going to go into how that makes me feel. I’m not going to try. It’s a story of its own.
We set out on the road to Los Angeles by 9:30 a.m., that’s where we’re all flying out from.
Three days driving, then three days together before we all go different directions. Me to Brisbane, and Cade back to work in Florida.
Crazy right? There’s more.
Wednesday was Cade’s birthday. Even though we spent the entire day in the car, I could feel how excited he was.
He turned 41, the age I was when we met. He was 26 then and had already been away from Australia for four years. It’s been eighteen years since he left, and he’s finally going home. He has every reason to feel the way he does.
We made it to L.A. Friday. We’re staying with our friend Jackie at an Airbnb.
Last night (Saturday) she agreed to stay with Chase so I could take Cade for a date night for his birthday. Also because we’re not sure when we will see each other again.
That sounds worse than it is, because there’s a light at the end of a very long tunnel that we have been living in all these years.
Fingers crossed, he’ll be finishing up his final days working on yachts and joining me in Australia permanently.
No more being separated for months at a time. No more billionaires looming over us, controlling how often we get to see each other. No more feeling like we’re lucky for the weeks we actually get to be a married couple. A family living together the way other families do.
Tomorrow is the big day.
Cade, Chase and I will board three different flights with three different destinations. I’m not sure yet how I’m going to react to all of that. I’ve got a pretty good guess.
I’ll be thinking about the fact that I won’t be able to hop on a plane and reach one of my family members within a few hours. I’ll be thinking about all of the moments I’m going to miss being a part of.
I’m also going to be thinking about what lies ahead. Our family there. Reuniting with Chase. And Cade hopefully joining us soon after.
But I will be on that flight, all alone…
Looking down at my arm.
—R. Michael
R. Michael is a former yacht chef, a married gay father, and a late-diagnosed neurodivergent writer. He tells his own stories, but he writes them for you, hoping you found something here to connect with. This is Ungarnished.
A new conversation happens every week,
and you’re invited. Come as you are.
.... I love Wicked! Was fortunate enough to see the original cast on Broadway, in its first week. 🎭
There is so much complexity here that you're dealing with. And I couldn't imagine having to be away from my husband that much. So I could relate to that. 💕
I understand where you're at. I've done the international relocation twice. There are so many moving parts to the process! All the best as you navigate the landing and settling in.
And welcome to Australia. 🇦🇺