Opportunity cost is one of the very few things I remember from the economics unit I had to take at uni.
Until the last couple of months, I’ve never considered the opportunity cost of moving to Singapore. The benefits always seemed to outweigh anything we left behind, friends and family aside, of course. Plus, it’s not that far to visit.
I avoided writing this for a few reasons. I also spent a long time sitting on it, not sure if this is something I really want to share. Out of respect to my family, obviously. My cousins and aunt. And also my mum, who is still not ok. “I just had a moment,” she says.
A few months ago, I went to Sri Lanka on holidays. It was amazing. It’s such a special place and we had a fantastic trip. But while I was there my uncle passed away.
It was a pretty tumultuous time. I spent hours on the phone. When I got the news that he was moving to palliative care, I was on the verge of getting the next bus, train and flight back to Australia.
“Don’t come. We’re ok. Just send lots of pictures. Enjoy your holiday.”
Enjoy my holiday. I never expected that to be one of the most upsetting things said to me. But I tried. I sent photos. Mum showed them to my aunt, and my uncle in the hospital. They loved them, the kitesurfing, the sunsets over the beach, the cheap beer pictures. Under no circumstances were we to come home.
Then my uncle died. I spoke to my dad. “Please just tell me what to do. I want to be there.”
“It will just upset your mother and your aunt if you come back.”
Then my mum.
“Don’t come back, we’re all ok.”
I still don’t know if I did the right thing.
The rest of the trip was a rollercoaster of phone calls and tears, while trying to pull myself together to enjoy where we were and not spoil the trip for Partner 2. Which resulted in situations like me crying quietly while on a safari jeep but wiping my nose and giving Partner 2 a manic smile when he asked if I was ok. I’m sure it was tough on Partner 2, who doesn’t cope well with other people’s emotions at the best of times. This was something I was quick to lash out at, at the time. On reflection though, he was the one making sure I was eating and sleeping, he was booking trains and pointing out interesting thing, he was making sure we could always get phone reception when I needed it. Just goes to show what you want isn’t always what you need.
I looked back over family photos, as you do in these situations. There’s a gorgeous one from last Christmas, of the whole family, aunts, uncles, cousins, Grandma and Grandad, all around the table. Mum sent it to me, because I wasn’t there. The only one missing. And it was about to happen again. I wouldn’t be there.
Guilt intermingled with the sadness, which was followed by more guilt. How could I possibly be making this about me right now? My younger brother, who was inexplicably sage, told me not to beat myself up. “Everyone is here to support everyone; you just look after yourself.” It’s most off-putting when your baby brother is suddenly the wise one.
So the funeral came and went, as did our trip. I was ready to fly out to Brisbane within hours of arriving back in Singapore. But then the call came. “Don’t come. We’re not ready.” So I didn’t. I rebooked and waited.
When I eventually got home, we sat around the table after dinner. I nursed a beer while my parents finished their second bottle of wine. My grandparents had gone to bed and the conversation had turned from the forced light chitchat of dinner. There was a box of tissues on the table.
Mum asked when the last time I saw my uncle was. My throat had closed and I couldn’t meet her eyes. The question I’d been dreading. Because I didn’t know. And I’d been scared to wrack my brain because I knew the answer was a long time ago. Because I haven’t been there. I attempted a wry laugh but it died before it came out.
“On TV, at the Melbourne Cup. I should have been here.”
There were more tears and hugs and stories and booze. As my sage brother said, it doesn’t get easier, we just need to figure out what normal is now. So wise.
In a nutshell, that’s why I’ve been thinking about opportunity cost lately. Living overseas is fantastic and I’m so lucky to be able to do so, but there’s always an opportunity cost. I just didn’t realise what it was until now.