The polarities of Foreign Service life

I wrote this post back in November of 2018 but I could never bring myself to publish it because it seemed like I would be jinxing myself. I almost published it when we were leaving Oman, but I just couldn’t. I’m glad I didn’t because then I’d think I had jinxed us. Turns out shit happens whether you tempt fate or not.

Without editing or further ado…

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” While this quote was used by Charles Dickens to describe 1700’s London and Paris, it also applies to life in the Foreign Service. We only have about 8 months left here in Oman, and the past year has been absolutely amazing. That’s in stark contrast to our Dhaka tour, which ended up being a complete shit-show.

This got me thinking about life in the Foreign Service and all of the ups and downs. Sometimes it’s fun and fancy, full of incredible adventures, while other times it’s literally the stuff of nightmares. (Keep in mind, we’ve only been doing this since 2015, and there are a lot of more experienced voices out there than mine.) The same could be said for life anywhere, but sometimes you have to accept more risk to get more reward. Some of the best and worst times of my life have happened since joining the FS, most of them directly caused by our choice to live this lifestyle, which gives us so much, but also takes away a lot.

You never really know what you’re going to get. That’s a risk that we, as a family, are willing to take. For now, anyways.

Over the past year, we’ve done so many amazing, incredible things, and I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. Watching M grow into a little boy who loves the water and hiking, strolls around the Muttrah souk like he owns the place, loves his nanny and his teachers, begs to FaceTime with his grandparents, and runs to the door shrieking “Let’s go on an adventure!” is absolutely priceless. We are so very lucky to have the opportunity to live in Oman, and we appreciate the good times like they might never happen again. (Fingers crossed, knock on wood, etc. that nothing catastrophic happens here over the eight months)

Then look at our experience in Dhaka: it was fine, great in fact, until it turned into a descent into literal  hell. It started with an Italian NGO worker getting shot to death outside of the grocery store that we shopped at every week and then a few months later one of the local staff at the embassy was hacked to death with a machete in his apartment. A few months after that was the terrorist attack at Holey Bakery, which resulted in the quick departure of over half of the embassy community.

Maybe I’m putting the cart before the horse writing about how great Oman has been, because things could turn on a dime. But even then, we still would have had the past 14 months of pure awesomeness. Things were never awesome in Dhaka. Our best times were spent hanging out with our friends in each other’s houses, and on vacation in other countries. We never got to experience the real Dhaka or Bangladesh.

I suppose that all of this is to say that I’m grateful for life’s upswing that we’ve had here. We’ve been lucky, and we know it. Maybe Oman was our cosmic payback for enduring Dhaka, but we are very cognizant of how good we’ve had it over the past year. Bracing for our next tour, we go into it hoping for the best. But in the back of my mind, there are thoughts about how it could go wrong and what contingency plans we’ll need. Nate will continue to always sit facing the exit in any restaurant we go to, and I’ll always be jumpy about people walking behind me.

Our family motto has been and will continue to be “Plan for the worst, hope for the best.” There’s no time like the present.

Dear Athena

My dear, sweet Athena,

I am so sorry. So, so, so, so goddamn sorry. We failed you and I’ll never forgive myself.

We love you so much. I hope you know that. We didn’t forget about you, and we never will. We were working so hard to try to get you to Windhoek as soon as possible, but we didn’t work hard enough. I will never stop regretting that. You were supposed to arrive here yesterday, and our lives will never be the same.

I said good-bye to you when I dropped you off at the kennel, knowing that two and a half months is a long time and who knows what could happen, but I never expected this. I’m glad I had the chance to hug you and kiss you, and that we took family photos the night before. Those photos are so precious.

I hope you spent your last days playing with your friends, getting fed lots of treats, and lying in the sun, relaxing. I hope they were care-free, easy times and that you were living your best life. We wanted to take you with us, but we worried that flying across the Atlantic ocean twice in six weeks in the middle of the summer would be too much for you. We thought that leaving you in Oman at a kennel you loved was the best choice. And the fact that the whole thing was my idea will haunt me for the rest of my days. I will never forgive myself.

They say you died of smoke inhalation. I hope that you were fast asleep, on your favorite mat, ducking in your sleep like you always do, with you nose tucked under your back leg. I hope you didn’t feel a thing. Just thinking about it makes me wail with grief. It breaks my heart.

We explained to M what happened, and he knows “Afeena died.” It makes me so sad that he might not remember you. You were such a big part of his life, and he thought of you as his doggie. We will make sure he never forgets you, and the memory of you will live on.

We were lucky to have so many amazing, fun years with you. We’ll never forget all those hikes at Manassas, how much you loved basking in the sun, all the time spent snuggling, how much you loved playing lazy tug, all the foot licks, the happy puppy rolls in the grass, playing fetch on the beach, the family camping trips, deer leaps in the tall grass, the list goes on. We have so many wonderful memories, and the photos to go along with them. For that, I’m grateful.

You weren’t perfect (who is?) but you tried so hard and you loved us so much. You are, and forever will be, part of our family. You’re with us in spirit now, and although you can’t snuggle with us or beg for food, we still feel your presence.

We love you, Beanie bear. I hope you’re playing non-stop with all the amazing dogs that went before you, and I hope Sparky, Kipper, Bianca, Lilly, Toby, Taz, and Beauty are all keeping you company.

All my love, now and forever,

Mom

Rest in Peace Athena: December 20, 2009 – October 3, 2019