When I landed in Australia, my parents said we’d visit her at the nursing home next weekend. No rush, she wasn’t at risk or under any immediate threat. Dad was to take her out for lunch with her friends. That night, there was a big family dinner planned but grandma wouldn’t be there; we’d all decided it was too late and too crowded for her. Plenty of time to see her later.

8:30am the next morning, my dad got the phone call. Mum came home from work; her fear of getting personal phone calls at work confirmed once again. My girlfriend and I came back from breakfast some time later that morning and got the news. My first instinct was stoicism, my second was to squeeze my father’s shoulder.

I followed my parents’ lead. Grief was put aside and we discussed matters. My parents have each arranged a funeral and the plans was put together quickly. Whilst my grandmother was not terminal, she was frail and had deteriorated quickly in the past year. To varying extents, we were prepared for this.

Things rolled along. I continued my vacation and caught up with friends. My parents informed relatives, dealt with the medical professionals, and before long, a funeral was put together. After the death of her husband, my grandmother had made her wishes clear and there was no arguing over procedures or finances. On a Friday night, six days after I’d landed, I was staring at her casket.

My grandmother was a fierce and resilient woman. A terrifying mother-in-law, a queen of guilt trips but a tough, adaptable survivor that I was proud to have in my life. She and grandpa would take me on the bus to school. They spoke barely a scrap of English but together they carved out a independent life in Australia. Whenever they went out, they’d bring us back dumplings or McDonald’s. Long after I’d grown wary of junk food, they’d bring back McDonald’s. McNuggets taste weird when they’re eaten with a mixture of guilt and gratitude.

It’s been over a decade since my grandfather’s passing. It changed my grandma a lot, made her bored and restless. As her mobility and her memory slipped away from her, I recognized her less and less. Nevertheless, in these 10 years, she’s had the opportunity to witness quite a few things that I wished my grandpa could have seen: countless grandchildren growing up and go to university; two adorable great-grandchildren; my moving to America.

In many ways, I’m sad that I didn’t see her right away and if things could have played out differently. But these doubts are small and easily wished away. More than anything, I find comfort that I could be here for my family, that she’s no longer suffering and that the family she’s left behind and the remarkable life she’s lived is nothing short of amazing.

Compare the pair. Left: Pacific Ocean near Australia and right: Seattle-Tacoma Airport

Hey, let’s go to another country! Let’s fly across the a gigantic ocean in a big noisy can of sardines for umpteen hours.

At any other time in the past, this idea would be insane to me. Friends always suggested vacations to far away places and I’d hesitate because flying sounds so expensive and kind of scary because I’ve never flown before. Yeah, if you didn’t already know, my first time flying ever was Melbourne to Sydney for Lachlan’s birthday weekend. Then I flew to Sydney a few more times for job interviews. Then finally, I got my passport and left Australia for the first time ever to live in Seattle.

It’s weird how things work out.

Flying to Melbourne for one week is incomprehensible to a lot of people. People are more understanding when they find out Melbourne is home for me. Well, nowadays? It is and it isn’t. Melbourne is something else, really.

Oh, United States Customs Service, you want to know what I have brought back to America?

• one Kangaroo plush toy (with joey and Australian flag)
• one Koala plush toy (sings Waltzing Matilda when you squeeze him)
• a renewed sense of identity
• an understanding of how rose-colored nostalgia really is
• a begrudging acceptance of Seattle as my home
• a crush on Geraldine

Moments after surprising everyone at Lachlan’s birthday lunch

Being back in Melbourne, I learned that my insanity had gotten the better of me and convinced me that my friends had all moved away from me. No one feels any further; absolutely no one. They’re just there. Rain or shine. Being surrounded by all these loved ones who are genuinely and wholeheartedly supportive of my move reminded me that it was me that started all of this and I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing.

Through talking and talking about Seattle with my friends, I finally figured out where I stand. I mean, I was drunk and people were asking me about Seattle and my new job and you know what I said? I said nice things. I praised the city and I spoke highly of my job and fondly of the people I’ve met so far. When normal people get drunk, they usually start bitching about their job or their girlfriend. Since I have dressed myself in all these layers of cynicism and sarcasm, I can only express positive feelings of contentment and joy when I am intoxicated. What a dysfunctional adult I have become.

So, it is with a deep breath that I say Seattle is home now. And Melbourne? Melbourne is a beautiful city with amazing friends, fashionable streets and a toxic river that still creates million-dollar waterfront properties. Melbourne is a place I am permanently attached to and a place that I will perpetually speak highly of.

Melbourne is really something else.

She was wrong, of course. I was right, I always am. I hadn’t even left yet and I was missing everything. In the last few months, I was constantly stopping to smell the roses and it was impossible that this hole in my chest could hurt any more than it already did. I took long walks to nowhere in particular and everywhere I walked, I felt like I was home. I couldn’t imagine another home.

The truth is that it hasn’t hurt any more. Not more than that night on the plane hovering over the Pacific Ocean. I mean, that was tough. I was trapped in a tin can in the middle of an ocean, no-one to talk to and no leg room.

Ferry Boat

I’ve been in Seattle now for 3 months now. I wake up; I eat breakfast. I get dressed and I can’t help but feel guilty for not cleaning up my apartment. This weekend for sure, I promise myself. I walk out into the crisp morning air and wait at the bus stop. The bus ride gives me time to reflect before I walk the extra half-mile to my office building and say good morning to my officemate. Life in Seattle has finally become routine. Everyday I pull a crank and I know what to expect.

Routine’s not a bad thing. Not in this context anyway. I’d like to see this routine as a starting point. Here is what I need to do to stay alive, stay employed and stay up-to-date with Grey’s Anatomy. I know where I have free time and I can start planning to fill that free time. It’s simple.

Except, it’s not that simple. It’s becoming apparent that life goes on. Specifically, life goes on in Melbourne. A day at the park; an afternoon spent climbing; a night out on the town. My friends are slowly and surely moving on and I feel like I haven’t allowed myself the same opportunity to move on. There are those days when I wake up and part of me is still living in Australia. It’s this attachment to nostalgia that’s breeding a detachment to what is clearly in front of me. I can finally concede that Fay was right; I’ve been caught up in a whirlwind of apartment hunting, new job and independent living to notice that I’m missing Melbourne.

Sunset

I’ve started thinking about how I need to sort things into two buckets. Things I’ve said ‘see you later’ to and things I’ve said ‘goodbye’ to. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t like a turbulent break-up where you try your best to forget the relationship ever happened; it is simply learning to let go of the things I’ve sacrificed to come live in Seattle. I’m not regretting my decision, I’m not burning any bridges and I’m not cutting anyone out of my life. I’m just taking stock. I made a sacrifice. I’ve got to come to terms with the loss.

The biggest thing I’ve said goodbye to is being a pillar in this friendship group. I’m no longer a persistent figure in the lives of some of the most invaluable people I’ll ever know. I won’t be at every birthday party and I won’t be a part of their memories as much as I’d like to be. I watch the emails fly back and forth with plans of drinking, dancing and wasting of time and I know I’m not going to be a part of it.

As much as it bugs me that I’m going to be outside of these activities for a long, foreseeable future, I don’t regret coming to Seattle. Seattle has been extraordinarily kind to me (there are cafes with free wireless everywhere). While I might carry some sadness of loss with me, what the past year in Melbourne has really taught me is how life, by and large, keeps getting better. I am an absolute sucker for nostalgia; my memories are always sepia-toned with gentle flamenco music. But if I’m honest with myself, the distant past sucks in comparison to the more recent past. I wouldn’t change a thing in my life if it meant changing what I’ve experienced over the last 12 months. They were that good.

There are times when I get nostalgic and I try to re-kindle a memory. I might gather up the same people and walk back to the same spot. I learnt that you can try to repeat everything all you ever get is a lacklustre replica. You can’t go back to the lazy Spring afternoon spent gossiping at a cafe table with some of your closest friends and that’s exactly what makes it so worthy of memory.

That’s why I don’t want to go back to the way it was. Because as good as it was then, it’s better now. When I go back to Melbourne, I’m going to catch up with everyone but I’m not going to sigh wistfully and try to re-create what we had “back in the day”.

When I go back to Melbourne, I’m going to kick some ass.

Thank you to everyone that made it out to my party on Saturday night. It was simply amazing to see such a great turnout for such short notice. And I didn’t have to pay for a single drink that night except when Fubar thought he’d be really clever by bossing the drunk guy around.

Photos are here.

My Scrubs

I’m no superman

Yes, I was wearing medical scrubs around the entire night. Mike did an extremely awesome thing by procuring me a set of scrubs as a going-away present so I had to do the right thing by him and wear them out. Amazingly enough, people thought I actually looked good in them. Who knew.

The Chicky and I

Chicky’s hair changes every time I see her

Chicky was kind enough to take photos and she loves me so much that she didn’t even care she was pissing off the entire club. So huge thanks to her for bringing her camera along and then letting me upload her photos to my flickr. As thanks to her, I have labelled her on one of my photos as a “sex kitten”, try and find which one. When Chicky reads this paragraph, she will totally roll her eyes at me.

Lachlan is hugging my signature bear

Lachlan was sober! And clean shaven!

Drinks were great. I kept walking over to Lachlan and telling him how much I’ve had to drink so I could gauge his reaction and figure out if I was getting ahead of myself. The final tally was something like 5 beers, 1 jagerbomb, 1 shot of tequila and 1 shot of chartreuse. Jerry was a huge tightass in getting me to do a shot of chartreuse without actually doing one himself.

Mike, I now know why you drink jagerbombs because jaberbombs taste NICE and you feel manly because you just drank a lot of liquid all in one go.

I am being attacked by well-meaning friends

No guys in my lap, surprisingly

I think that night will be remembered as the one where Jack had lots of different girls in his lap. Rest assured, they were all just very clingy friends trying to say goodbye. Also, I was a bit clingy too.

Thank you to all the people that don’t really see me often for making the trip out to wish me well. I’ve been in that position countless times and it is daunting to go to a party where you barely know anyone. So thank you for being there and helping the group reach critical mass. :D

Mumble!

To the people that didn’t show up, I’m not going to chase you up about it. So don’t stress too much. Just know that I will come for your first born. And I will teach them to tap dance.

And finally, thank you to the regulars. The friends I couldn’t imagine going a week without let alone going endless weeks of dreary rain without. You are the people that lift my spirits, shape my days and occasionally shake my soul to its core. Thank you all for making it so much harder to say goodbye.

What are some of your favourite drinking holes? How much can I expect this to cost? How hard is it to organise? Is it unreasonable to expect a booking within about 2 weeks?

Short notice, ahoy!

Update about Jack’s farewell drinks
Well, shit. I only bothered to look today but it seems I really only have one weekend left! No more elaborate plans then! This time I’m organising something quick and dirty for this coming Saturday (27th January).

Email/call me if I haven’t already told you the details! You’re all invited!

• Reduce the amount of metal things you carry. There are two sets of metal detectors to go through and you feel ridiculous carrying your belt in your hands.
• While there is a booking system, that’s only to get general numbers. Once you get there, its first-come-first-serve.
• Be prepared for a long wait. I waited for an hour and a half.
• As soon as you sit down, swap pleasantries with the people you are waiting with. These guys obviously have something interesting to say seeing as they are applying for travel visas.
• Read over your visa documentation requirements about 8 times before you ever set foot inside the consulate.
• Is your photo a square or a rectangle? If it’s a rectangle, go get it done again. U.S. visas require a square 5cm photo.
• Don’t go insane and try to look for hidden messages from the Illuminati in the 3-minute video they have on loop in the waiting room.

Photographs you see as you go through the metal detector:

Each flag was subtly different

• George W. Bush with American flag behind him
• Dick Cheney with American flag behind him
• Condeleeza Rice with American flag behind her

Photographs hanging in the waiting room:

MLK was my favourite

• Statue of Liberty
• Miles Davis in concert
• New York skyline, complete with Twin Towers (I assume it was taken from the Brooklyn promenade)
• Martin Luther King Jr.