How to Have Presence When Your Family Lives at a Distance
Reminding ourselves to nurture family bonds despite physical distance
My parents and I endeavour to speak online many times per week, but being in each other’s physical presence again is a treat we look forward to once a year in summertime. Like the indulgences of strawberries and cream or Mr Whippy with a flake, our much-anticipated face-to-face contact and hugs we share with family members are the sweetest antidotes for living far from “home”.
Yet, we have chosen to live abroad, albeit with factors that influence our decision. We can’t help but identify ourselves as ambitious. We are the lucky ones with children who travel with ease, international job opportunities, and an awareness of the varying costs of living. We have caught the chance for an improved quality of life. We could move back to live near our parents, siblings, and friends, but we do not. We feel guilty about our prolonged residency abroad and the reasons are manifold.
After all, we’re not present for the majority of months of the year. We perpetuate the distance.
Recent global estimates from the United Nations International Organization of Migration suggest there were around 281 million international migrants in the world in 2020, which is 3.6% of the global population. Of course, migration happens for many reasons, most notably to escape danger, but it is also common for education or work, as in our case. Whatever the circumstance, migrants do not know if their move will be temporary or permanent. That’s a lot of families who have distanced themselves for safety reasons, or voluntarily from their country of origin, who are unsure when or whether they will return to their home country. It is “a truly global phenomenon.”
Each year my family of six travels 4,870 miles by air, leaving our residence abroad to replenish connections with family. We’re lucky we have the privilege of paid annual travel and it encourages us to renew our familial relationships. This is important for my children and their relationship with their cousins most of all, but I also value the time I manage to grasp with sisters, cousins, and parents, not to mention extended family and old friends. I often wonder how much more present we would be with family if we lived just twenty or even two hundred miles away in the same country.
It’s true, relocating 300 miles by sea and road from the UK to The Hague in The Netherlands was already significant. Moving nearly 3,000 miles further to Dubai in the United Arab Emirates was a huge jump and caused even greater shock of separation for my parents. Thankfully, harnessing our positive presence, whenever we do get to see each other in person, has overruled the physical distance.
How the Distance Came to Overwhelm the Presence:
In 1998, I moved out from my home in the southeast of England aged eighteen and went to university in the Midlands 145 miles away. My husband moved 147 miles from the opposite direction from his parents’ home to the same university.
Before we turned 21, we’d already lived in two other European countries and backpacked around South America, 6,000 miles away from both of our hometowns.
Then we relocated to The Netherlands over 300 miles away from my parents and family but 30 miles from the Dutch town where my husband grew up as an international migrant himself twenty years previously with his parents.
From there, the jump to live in another continent happened quickly and with our four children, we moved approximately 3,230 miles from The Hague in The Netherlands to Dubai in the United Arab Emirates for work.
Now, my husband and our young family live 4,870 miles by air away from our original starting point in England, a couple of thousand miles closer to those we consider the foundation of our “home”. The obstacle of the North Atlantic Ocean still emphasises our current barrier of distance.
As a constantly transient family group, we now realise that time moves onwards at an inconceivable pace. It is a cliche that everyone knows is true. Each time we meet relatives, even when we live in the same town, our faces have changed, our hair is different, our expressions have gradually altered and for the children, we mark measurements on the wall to show growth. This is a loved pastime by the youngest of family members. In my parents’ home, the entire white wall of their lobby is scratched with pencil markings of names and dates.
How do we overcome the dreaded “Distance” then? The words we often associate with distance are all negative in connotation, for example, we talk of being: aloof, detached, reserved, removed, cool, even cold. When face-to-face with someone we see often, showing emotional disconnection happens without us meaning it. Life flows onwards and when patterns and meetings are repeated, human nature means we fall into recurring routines. I don’t mean to diminish or discard the relationships we have with those to whom we live close by and by no means suggest they lack emotional intensity, but let’s not forget that emotional distance can evolve in places we don’t expect or mean it to.
In contrast, when you haven’t seen someone in many months, the fight to escape any sign of such ‘distance’ happens more naturally, does it not? Missing someone and accepting that ‘absence make[s] the heart grow stronger,’ is how many expatriates or international migrants make peace with how far they are from their loved ones for most of the year.
What does it mean to have “Presence”? When I gave birth to my newborn twins in 2016 in Den Haag, The Netherlands, my sister who lived in England gave birth to my niece a few months later. We felt far apart but close in our experiences. We wanted to be together and we wanted to share what we were going through. It was hard to work out how to bridge the distance to be present with each other. Yet we did work it out and we were able to share some of the most important moments of those newborn hours. It has made me consider whether “Presence” really is the positive state towards which we all need to traverse?
How did we share those moments? We called each other daily. We spoke and talked a few words with each other before placing our phones aside to pick up a baby, change a nappy, or similar. We were often so busy with our own lives that our phones would lie connected but distanced from our busy hands. One or the other of us would be engrossed with one or both of our children in the grip of breastfeeding.
‘Alexa, do you remember Drop Dead Fred and how much fun it was to have an imaginary friend?’ I yelled one day across my living room. Alexa, the voice-activated virtual assistant of recent times did not exist back then. I was connecting with my sister who I knew was still on the line. I’d left her on the dining table a metre away in the mayhem of getting to feed one of my hungry crying twins.
She replied with an exuberance that boosted my confidence, made me laugh during the challenges of latching on and calming my agitated babies, ‘Hello Snotface! Of course. That’s what you get for having a baby.’ My sister and I were there with each other. We were present but distant. Our presence was known and welcomed by each other. Like Elizabeth’s imaginary friend Fred in the classic ’90s film, the chaotic influences of our lives were better enjoyed when shared, and even though Fred was not physically present, he was the central existence in helping her overcome her shyness and lack of confidence. One of my favourite films!
Michelle McQuaid who has set up a Wellbeing Lab draws our attention to Associate Professor Amy Cuddy whose words resonate strongly with me. She says: “Presence is the state of being attuned to and able to comfortably express our true thoughts, feelings, values and potential. It emerges when we feel personally powerful, which allows us to be acutely attuned to our most sincere selves. It’s what makes us compelling. We are no longer fighting ourselves: we are being ourselves.” And that’s exactly what my sister and I worked out. We were our new selves, as mothers, sincere in accepting that we couldn’t be physically present to help, but we were in tune with each other for those moments, and the support we passed backward and forwards was precious. Never to be forgotten.
I’ll guarantee that during the years of the recent pandemic, our companionship from afar with loved ones has in lucky cases thrived despite the physical distance and restrictions forced upon us.
We’ve learned a great deal from those years. Here are my top five:
- Make a schedule for regular calls with every member of your family. For example, it may be that your eldest can chat with his grandparents before he goes to school, whereas your younger children may need to speak together on weekend mornings. I love speaking with my mum or my dad 9 am my time, 3 pm theirs once the children have all gone off to school. You may also have time zones, schedules, and commitments to consider as you collectively plan out regular calls with family. It’s important and once it’s done, you’ll find the whole process a breeze.
- Don’t forget the birthdays. I‘ll wager many people have forgotten to wish someone a happy birthday at one point in their lives. Sending cards, messages, and even gifts from afar, shows you care and cherish someone, despite the distance. Mind you, I’m embarrassed to admit the carefully crafted Christmas gift boxes I curated this year for three family groups back in Europe were not delivered until summer time, since I left it too late to post making the cost excessive.
- Share photos and memories. Social media has its benefits and the way we can share memory collections from past and present experiences is a form of “presence” replacement I love. When I’m feeling extra organised I even create photo books that document those shared summer times and send a copy to my parents too. Create reels of images to capture your emotions and pass them on. Presence from a distance!
- Listen. Every person has their anecdotes, personal stories, perceptions, and opinions. They can be fantastic energy boosters and as for the endorphins that can be released when you laugh together with a family member about a shared childhood memory. Ask questions of your relatives, learn about their past and your shared heritage. Take a pause. Give time to hear from all your family members living afar. But also listen to yourself and the stories you choose to tell.
Closeness is the antonym of Distance. Absence is the opposite of Presence.
We might be Close and Present for moments of the year but we can also be Present though Distant at other times, and that’s worth fighting to achieve.
I sent a photograph of strawberries and a message to my mother-in-law this morning. I knew she’d like them. I don’t know whether it matters that she won’t receive the message in the conventional sense. The phone is now out of action since her passing last year. Of course, she has always had and will have a presence in my life but the distance between us is now profound. She used to live in Doha, Qatar, 236 miles by air from where we used to live in Dubai, United Arab Emirates so we’ve always been used to a distance. We’ve always known to interpret presence as something unique in our global nomadic circumstances.
Valuing the distance and welcoming the small moments that are curated together with family and friends when in each others’ presence is significant despite, not because of the distance. I will argue vehemently that British strawberries are the best and without the actual ice-cream van, a creamy Mr Whippy just isn’t the same. Valuing the presence goes without saying, but a new definition of ‘being present’ helps us to see that actions, movements, gestures, words, and the establishment of patterns and regimes make distances no longer detrimental to our presence.
Sources:
https://worldmigrationreport.iom.int/msite/wmr-2024-interactive/
