A couple of weeks ago, my husband and I got the phone call that every expat dreads: “If you want to see your loved one alive, don’t leave it till the weekend.”

It concerned my husband’s mother, who had been diagnosed with lung cancer a few weeks earlier. At first, her prospects had seemed good and the doctors were hopeful, but then she was suddenly rushed into hospital.

It was a Sunday and we quickly made plans. We would leave Tuesday night from our home in Normandy, spend two days with her, then head back to France on the night boat. We asked friends to take care of our dog and five cats, rearranged work schedules (we are both freelance writers), and began to pack.

Then, the next morning, we got another call to say Lise would not live out the day. My husband and I looked at one another and then at the clock. Even if we left at that exact minute, the chances of arriving while she was still alive were remote. Reluctantly, we decided to stay put and await the inevitable call. It came that evening.

There are few things that can make an expat feel so useless as being away from family at a critical time. Few of us, even those with elderly parents, seem to even think about that emergency call.

Read the full article at The Telegraph's website —>