I have been having an especially expat-ish week this week.  There have been some great posts out there on my favourite blogs about the ups and downs of being an expat and I had an e-mail exchange with someone who is about to move to Amsterdam which reminded me of the whole joy of moving to a new country.  Expatify also asked me to participate in their spotlight series which was nice and answering the questions had me thinking about what it means to me to be an expat.

When my Mum arrived yesterday she brought with her a photo album filled with photos of my time in Paris.  Two very kind friends had spent hours compiling a memory book crammed with pictures of my favourite people and vignettes of my life there.

I left Paris under a cloud.  I was broken and lost.  Despite having an amazing group of friends life had got the better of me and I needed to put myself back together again.  I returned frequently to visit for weekends and caught up with as many people as I could, sometimes it felt as though I had hardly left.

The expats I have met bond quickly.  When you are far from home you look to your friends to form your family.  They share the incredible experiences with you and they hold you up when it all gets too much.  People are still people though, and not all friendships are built to last.

A crack appeared amongst my friends.  A perceived slight had spun out of control, tempers had frayed and patience had been exhausted.  I watched from a distance.  When I next visited one of my friends was missing from our get togethers.  Part of me was relieved.  When you are caught up in the narcissistic business of fixing yourself you don't have time for those who need to fix themselves.  You can't help them, you have nothing more to give. 

So the crack got wider and yet easier to ignore.  The ranks closed and the space filled.

It was 4:10pm on a Thursday.  I was sitting at my desk when the call came.  I should have known what was coming "...in hospital...we don't think she's going to make it..." and I started freefalling.

Less than two hours later she was gone.

She went as her parents flew through the sky, half way around the world only to find they were too late.  She went before we could say goodbye, before we could say "what a stupid disagreement, can't we get past this", before we could say sorry.

I walked my fingers today over the photos which she had so carefully selected and placed in a book for me, remembering names and forgotten places until there she was, head thrown back with laughter, eyes sparkling arms slung carelessly over the shoulders of her friends.

I started to pull the photos from the book, scanning each one as I went into e-mails to our friends with a note promising to do better at staying in touch even though we are now spread over six countries and three continents.

Some of the connections you make are transient, connections just for that moment in your life.  Others will last you a lifetime.  I no longer take either for granted.