Sacrifice

To give up something valued for the sake of other considerations

What’s the biggest sacrifice you’ve ever made?

I might say that I swapped the joy of physical closeness with family and friends in America for Skype (plus other assorted technology) when I relocated to another country, though there have been numerous benefits that have balanced the scale with sacrifice.

I was thrust into thinking about sacrifice while waiting for the bus the other evening, having decided to check my email. (A three-minute wait and I’m all over the mobile; how our lives have changed.) I had a note from a friend whose mother had passed away; a friend who I met 30-odd years ago and who despite the considerable distance between us has always been someone whose friendship I have cherished. (You know the type. Pause to be thankful for them.)  Yes, I cried quietly. I had a moment of frustration of being too far away. And then I had a ton of memories of our spending time together crowding my mind; there were smiles and smirks amid the tears.

A number of years ago my friend moved to take care of aging parents; attempts to manage their issues from miles away were difficult for all of them, and particularly for someone who wasn’t keen on flying. Pause. Imagine giving up life as you once knew it—the great apartment in the cool neighbourhood, a steady stream of work, friends you got to see on a frequent basis, your own space where the only limitations are those you create  . . .

There are a lot of intangibles to a sacrifice of that magnitude. And then there are the financial costs and the emotional strain of dealing with illness, decisions, adjustment, and uncertainty. Those all sit heavily on top of the realisation that all things once familiar are now physically distant and need to be re-established if not for any reason but for one’s sanity. It is a burden I suspect too heavy for most shoulders to bear.

I didn’t get the chance to have to deal with such sacrifice with my parents; they separated when I was in my teens and my father was not part of my life after the divorce decree but to discuss the odd bill here and there he was obligated to pay for the children he cast aside. It was never a pleasant phone call, and after the youngest turned 18 he was done. My mother died too young; in the last year of her life she required more care, but that was spread among some of the six of us. Frankly I never saw it as a burden—every moment I spent with mother was cherished, truly. (And it’s not just because she would tell me I was the best driver of my siblings; she did balance her praise with observations such as I had very ugly feet.) And financially, well, my mother fed me and kept a roof over my head until I was almost 25; she remarked when I decided to go to NYU that she could only feed and shelter me, and that was all I needed. Any contribution I made to her comfort was just payback, and probably not in the amount she provided me over the almost 40 years we had together.

I admire my friend in ways I can’t possibly articulate. We all make choices; there are always options. Putting your own desires and needs aside for the sake of others takes courage, strength, resilience, faith . . . and probably a whole lot more. We all say we’d do it; there are those who have lived it, on their own and with only their inner strength to remain sane, whole, and as happy as is possible.

I believe in karma. I hope that, in my next life, we are privileged to meet again and I can smile at the good fortune that surrounds someone who most certainly deserves it.