When I came to Alberta in Canada in 2011 with my husband and then two-year-old daughter and four-month-old son, I had a time frame. Two years maximum. My foggy thoughts told me that by then all would be rosy at home and I would return to Ireland, to my old life.
Five years on and now with three children, I am still here and the looming question of where do I belong has taken up residence in my thoughts. I didn’t envisage suffering from this “emigration limbo” syndrome. I have Irish friends who knew on arrival that they would stay. No internal debating; their decision was made and that was final.
Emigrating was the hardest period of my life. I knew no one here and had to start all over again. I was 35 and at a “settled” period of my life. I was overcome with sadness, sadness like I had never felt before. I didn’t know then that the feeling would last for months, and that I would still feel that sadness, years later. Now it is only twinges though, twinges I can control with ease. It’s a skill you need to learn to reduce the symptoms of emigration limbo syndrome.
I am “settled” again, but now in Canada. My main concern is that I won’t fit in at home any more, that I will miss this life. I have met people here who moved from Ireland in the 1980s and still sound like they have just landed. A lot of their stories are similar; many of them returned home to Ireland but ended up coming back here.
We have a great quality of life in Alberta. Sherwood Park, where we live, is a vibrant suburb east of Edmonton and a fabulous place to raise a family. Winter can be hard but, for the most part, it is twinned with blue skies. We have a pick-up truck and trailer which we love to take on camping trips, where we eat s’mores around the campfire with good friends.
You could never be bored here, there is always something to do. We’ve been to the Rockies numerous times and on our most recent trip we finally saw bears. There are festivals all year round.
Valuable friends
On the flip side, you can’t replace family. You can find valuable friends, but you can’t substitute the people who made you the person you are today. My kids can’t sit on Nana or Grandpa’s knees, kissing their cheeks when they want. They miss out on relationships with their aunts, uncles and cousins when they only get to see them through a computer.
Both of our families have come over to visit, to get to know “for real life” the beautiful kids we brought in to this world. Even though the physical interaction is sporadic, a beautiful and necessary virtual relationship has developed, which we nurture and encourage.
I worry that something will happen to one of our family, but I am sure they worry just as much about us as we do about them. It’s life.
There is no denying my children's Irishness. I teach them a little of our language, and they listen to Irish music all the time; Luke Kelly is adored. They love to watch Riverdance, and we often do our own 10-second version. They know the words to Ireland's Call.
I know we are lucky. Emigrating was a tough decision, but we’ve been fortunate to have been home twice.
For now, I am living every day as it is presented. I’m taking each breath of Canadian air happily, and trying to live in the moment. I’m also trying to teach my kids this very important lesson. I’m still in limbo; I will be until I make a final decision about where we will call our forever home.
