Since I was a child I have watched my parents come and go. It was rare to have them both in the house at the same time. My mother was an international flight attendant and my father was a pilot. In those years my father was at home a lot more, and when my mother retired from QANTAS we were expecting to see a lot more of each other.
We built our dream house and on the day we moved in my father was informed that in order for him to be a captain he had to move to Sydney. We’d already moved once for his work, so my parents decided that we’d stay in Queensland and that dad would commute for work – we expected him to be able to transfer within a year. This was in 2007.
For seven years my father has been splitting his time between his Sydney apartment and our family home. What was meant to become a house bustling with energy has become extremely lonely – the house is too big for my mother, brother and myself.
While we wait for the few days my father spends at home, our lives are on hold. The rooms seem too empty and everywhere is too quiet. Even when my father is at home we all know he will be leaving soon.
