Series: Going Back | TCK Friendships + Grief | Part 1/2

Alrighty… time to settle in and get comfy because I’m getting ready to share… the stuff you wait till 2am to share with a best friend or two. I wish more TCKs would share about this stuff online and in spaces that other TCKs can find when they feel alone. I needed resources from other TCKs not just their parents or those who studied us, and thats why I’m sharing.

I have had the absolute honor to be friends with the some of the most amazing, unique, powerful, and wonderful people from around the globe. I do not take that honor lightly, and would not trade it for anything. I’ve had over 20 best friends in my 22 years of life, and constantly battle the fears and insecurities that come with that. I’ve learned in my short life thus far that some of the best relationships you have, aren’t always the ones that last a lifetime. AND THAT’S OKAY. I’ll say it again. THATS OKAY. Just because they aren’t in your life right now, does not mean you weren’t important in their life. Impact isn’t horizontal on a timeline, its vertical in depth.

I’m not sure where to start when it comes to grieving friendships. I am no professional… every friendship is different and end in a myriad of ways.

Growing up my worst nightmare was “moving to America”. My parents were not the ones who created this fear. Among my sister and I’s friends, the phrase “moving to America” represented pain, loss, change, and confusion. Short timelines for friendships fed a fear of the unknown - America was the place that took best friends away. Often families would say “we are going back for a year, and then we will come back here.” We would hug and say ‘see you next year’… most of those friends I never saw again as a child. I began to believe “one year” meant “we aren’t sure what to tell our kids. We aren’t coming back”. Being left was hard. I started hugging friends much tighter. I had a lot of best friends over the years. It felt like my friendships never ran their full course. We were separated right in the middle of friendship.

One of my best friends when I was little was named Maddie. My mom found out there was family in our part of town that had a little girl my age. It was always her top priority that she found friends my age. Our moms set up a date, and me and Maddie became instant friends. We were playing, making clay monsters, laughing together, and leaping from imaginary lava. I remember sitting on the blue pull-out futon in my room with Maddie on that first play-date. I can’t recall word-for-word our conversation, but it went something like this:

Me: “I’m so glad we are going to be best friends”

Maddie: “Me too…. but i don’t know if your mom told you…”

me: “what?”

Maddie: “i’m only going to be here 9 months.. then we are moving back to America”

me: “oh.”

Maddie: “but we can the best best friends for 9 months!?”

me: “YEAH!"

And that was our plan. I know now more then ever that conversations like that shaped who I am. The strengths, weaknesses, and fears I carry today were built upon deep-dive friendships, tearful goodbyes, and routine grief.

I didn’t realize how unique it was that I became accustom to investing in friendships with actual expiration dates. We knew it was going to end in a tearful goodbye. Maddie and I knew we only had months to be best friends, but that wouldn’t stop us. We were kids… I don’t think we actually thought through how it would be harder to say goodbye the harder we loved. I’m so glad we didn’t know. We played for hours and hours, told each other secrets over sleep overs, and celebrated our birthdays once each together. I wish for that kind of bravery in friendship now. We were just 10 years old.

Maddie and I being cute and our awkward little selves.

Maddie and I in our 9 months of friendship!

When I was around twelve I went to a birthday part for a girl named Jacqueline. We had a sleepover with a couple other TCKS our age in the city. There was cake, Jonas Brother posters, and lots of giggling. I had no idea Jacqueline would teach me what it meant to be a friend. We quickly bonded over mutual music and love of “fashion.” (long fake pearls, with graphic tees, bootcut jeans with slight flares, and platform flipflops: fashion.) We would spend the next year becoming inseparable. In the winter of 2010 when my parents first discussed moving to America with my sister and I, there was a lot of things that made me upset, but the idea of leaving Jacqueline was overwhelming.

It was February of 2011, it was the week we were going to start telling our friends we would be leaving. Jacqueline hadn’t been able to go to the pazar with me that Wednesday (an almost weekly tradition) It was Friday now. I didn’t know how to tell Jacqueline. She had shared with me before that her dream was to move to America…. and I had replied saying “well its my nightmare…” The idea of telling her I would be living out her dream and crying because I was terrified and didn’t want to go - felt cruel. But I didn’t have a choice. As we all gathered into that living room for youth group, my dad leaned down and said “if you want to tell Jacqueline yourself, you have to now, we are about to tell everyone.” My stomach dropped. My mind went a thousand miles an hour, but it had left my lungs behind. She couldn’t hear this with everyone else. Thats the worst best friend move ever. She was sitting on a couch across the room. I ran over, grabbed her hand, and lead her out to the hallway. “I have to tell you something.”

We went outside and sat on the swinging bench on the concrete basketball court. If I’m honest, even thinking about this conversation makes my heart race and eyes well up. I don’t remember my words. I felt sick. I cried. I said “we’re moving, Jacqueline…. I’m moving to America.” I can see her face. It was the same stunned and sad face I had made for years as I heard my best friends say those words to me.. I ALWAYS thought being on that end was the worse, but looking at her face, I had changed my mind. I told her “Jacqueline, its okay if we need to stop hanging out as much. I know its going to be really hard. I know you want to move to America. I wish it was you moving.”

And Jacqueline looked at me. She saids something along the lines of, “Absolutely not. Normally I would want to fade away, but no, Emily. We are going to make this the best 3 months of our lives. We are going to do everything we can together and have SO much fun.”

I was relieved and shocked. We hugged tight on that swing. We cried. 13 years olds are warriors.

We spent every minute we could together the next three months. We saw each other at least three times a week. We had sleepovers what felt like every weekend. She helped me go through all my things. I mean… looking back, she set her own feelings aside, and loved me fiercely.

She stayed with me the last two weeks in my childhood home. She went to camp with me for the las time. And the day before I moved, we spent all day together. Shopping, walking around town, laughing over burger king, and ice cream. I don’t even remember our last hug or what we said. I think it was SO emotional and intense my mind has it tucked deep.

Jacqueline + I on my last day in Turkey July 04, 2011.

Its so interesting looking at the differences between my childhood friendships vs my high school and on friendships. When I moved to America, I jumped into a youth group that was very different. Most people had known each other since preschool, or even before. I remember a family joining and people referred to them as “new” for three years. I wasn’t in that category because this was our “home” church that we went to when back in the States. I sort of knew peers, but we had never been deep friends. They didn’t leap into friendships when there was an expiration date in site (like the three month sprints I was in town every couple years). It was different for them, and it confused me. They weren’t nearly as reckless with their hearts - they had the option to not have to.

I’ve learned a lot about my self the last few years as I have begun to reflect on friendships. Ive learned that I love to deep dive into friendships, and if i think too hard before the jump, I become almost paralyzed by the fear of the friendship ending. What use to be the fear of someone moving, was replaced with a fear of the friend “fading’. My friendships in America began having beginnings, middles, and ends. They ran their full course. I remember the first time it happened. I panicked. I didn’t understand why we weren’t hanging out anymore. I had never gotten to the point in a friendship where I didn’t want to hang out with someone anymore… they always had moved or there weren’t any other options of friends, so we just kept being friends. In America, the options felt limitless. Our youth group in Turkey was 25 kids at its max and 10/12 kids regularly. We loved each other so much. We spent every Friday night together 5-10pm. It was a safe haven for us TCKs. Somewhere where we spoke English, ate pizza, worshipped, played cops and robbers, and were ourselves with people who knew us best. When I think of “community”, my first association is that youth group. I remember gathering together in the living room with the fireplace, someone on guitar leading us in worship, and if one person didn’t sing we could hear it. Everyone’s voice was important. We felt it hen someone moved. There was a voice missing during worship. We sang 2000’s classics like “Better is One Day” and “Mighty to Save”. My parents pretty much were just there to be present. They got to know everyone, order the pizza and gathered the $2/4 from everyone, and lead a discussion or talk. They would sit inside while we ran out to play games for hours. Sometimes having a few hour conversation with one of us. I remember running into the field outside the house we met at, and all laying down together to star gaze. All laying there with our heads together. I never knew I would look back on that as something of dreams. I remember the feeling of knowing EVERYone in the room and not caring where I sat for dinner or a game… because it didn’t matter - we were family.

In America, the youth group was 60+ kids ranging all grades. Not everyone knew each other or liked each other. There was history - family history, friendship history, school drama, boy drama. It was a room with cinder block walls painted a bright color and carpets. The room was never full because it was triple the size of our group. We gathered together in rows of chairs with a worship team leading us. They had plug-ins for their guitars and microphones and screens that displayed the lyrics. If you didn’t sing, no one could tell. If you weren’t there, your friends would notice and your small group leader, but most people wouldn’t. We met for two hours. It was structured and leader led. We didn’t eat together, and rarely played games we came up with.

I missed being squished in living room - sitting on couches and the floors, singing with friends from a dozen countries. I missed the quiet. I sat out in the hall of youth group a few times because the microphones were so loud it hurt my ears. I couldn’t focus on worshipping; I couldn’t hear my own voice, let alone the person next to me.

But you know, I adapted. Us TCKS, we always do. For better or worse, your “normal” just shifts. This was my life now. This was my youth group. This is how I worshipped now. These were now my people. So I had to get to know them, and I did. I moved to America a few days before a week long mission trip within our city. My youth pastor invited me to join in last minute with my cousin who had just moved from Jordan the same week. We didn’t know what we were signing up for, but we signed up, desperate for fun and desperate for the new friends that always awaited.

I was jet lagged and sleeping on a air mattress in a Sunday school room with 30 other girls my age that I kind of knew. We were all placed on specific teams to serve at different organizations/communities around the city. I remember the second day, my team was all stuffed into a white van driving to our project site. The radio announcer said “HEAT WARNING EVERYBODY! This is the worst heat wave we’ve had in Memphis in a decade. Stay hydrated and stay indoors!” I thought in my head “oh gosh. heat warning? I guess we won’t be able to work today?” I was both alarmed and confused when the van didn’t turn around. Memphis weather was no joke, and it almost felt unfair that this was my first impression. You move to Memphis in July, you gonna hate Memphis. We worked outside for hours that day. I was in culture shock mentally and in physical shock.

At night we would gather and worship together and hear a sermon. I sat outside worship one night, my ears ringing from the speakers. Afterwords, it was free time till lights out. Cards, basketball, talking, whatever we wanted. On the third night, my cousin and I snuck away. We found an empty hallway far away from everyone else. We didn’t exchange many words, we just held hands and cried. I don’t remember knowing why I was crying. It was probably a combination of dehydration, shock, exhaustion, fear, and grief. There weren’t words to say. We were capped out. There is only so much a 7th grader can comprehend - let alone verbalize, and this had maxed us out. I’m really glad we had each other.

Kids are awesome and freakin adaptable. I somehow managed to make some best friends that week. Friends I would grow up with for the next 5 years. I’m so glad I was brave and signed up for that week. As hard as it was, it set the foundation of my experience with youth group. I had friends now. I was going to be okay.

1. Izmir Youth Group representing 7 different countries! 2. Some of the Izmir Youth Group Girls

Izmir Youth Group | Cleaning the dishes together after making dinner.

Hangouts with other 7th grade friends. <3

1. Some of our friends go together and we had an all girls “prom”