What I Learned From Loving My Father Across an Ocean

Lately I’ve been thinking about something that I know many families struggle with, especially now that people live all over the world.

When my father became ill, he was living in another country and I was here in Florida. Looking back, I think one of the hardest parts wasn’t his illness itself. It was the distance. At least that was my experience.

There is something incredibly painful about loving someone deeply and not being able to simply get in the car and go see them whenever you want. Every update felt important. Every phone call felt important. And every time something changed, there was a part of me that wished I lived next door instead of across an ocean.

I don’t think I realized at the time how much guilt I was carrying around.

Not because anyone was making me feel guilty, because nobody was. But when someone you love is dying, it’s easy to start thinking about all the things you should be doing. You wonder if you’re calling enough, visiting enough, helping enough.

As an end-of-life doula, I hear versions of this all the time. Adult children call me because their mother is in Florida while they live in New York, California, or another country entirely. They desperately want to help, but life is complicated. Jobs, children, finances, health, and responsibilities don’t disappear simply because someone we love becomes ill. And yet the guilt remains.

What I’ve come to realize is that we often judge ourselves based on what we were unable to do, while the people we love are experiencing something entirely different.

My father never measured my love by how many miles separated us. He knew I loved him.

When I think about him now, I don’t spend much time thinking about the things I couldn’t do. I think about our conversations. I think about his voice. I think about the moments we did have.

Maybe that’s why I’ve become so aware of the importance of simply letting people know they matter while they’re still here. Not because it fixes anything. It doesn’t.

Illness still hurts. Distance still hurts. Loss still hurts. But love has a way of reaching places that we cannot.

And for many people reading this, especially those caring for aging parents from afar, I hope that offers a little comfort.

Sometimes we cannot be everywhere we want to be. Sometimes we cannot do everything we wish we could do.

But that does not mean we loved any less.

If this touched you, stay connected here. I’ll be sharing more gentle reflections for those carrying love and loss.

With love,

Lara 💜