We looked at the calendar and did the math on how many good years my dad had left

We looked at the calendar and did the math on how many good years my dad had left.

My dad has Parkinson's.

My parents were in Vancouver.

We were in Australia.

I'd JUST gotten my Aussie PR.

After years of visa limbo, we had immigration security.

That low grade constant anxiety of uncertainty had FINALLY dissipated.

But we gave it up.

My husband quit his job.

We packed up our life and moved to Canada.

Because Dad's good years were ticking by.

And...we landed right back in visa limbo.

This time in Canada.

My husband's turn to apply for PR.

Some days the decision felt insane.

We'd just fought so hard for stability and here we were, starting over.

But then I'd watch my mom on a Tuesday afternoon.

The way her shoulders dropped when I walked through the door unannounced.

The way she'd say "Oh nice!! You're here!!" like my simple presence was the biggest gift in the world.

I feel guilty sometimes.

About what we left behind.

About the life we built in Australia that we just… closed.

But I also remind myself:

My dad's Parkinson's isn't improving just because I'm here.

(Parkinson's doesn't 'improve' for anyone)

But I'm there for Mom.

I'm getting quality time with Dad.

I'm giving back to parents who gave me everything.

And that's enough for me.