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HomeUntold storiesFrom London to Denmark via Covid: A Mother's MusingsFrom London to Denmark via Covid: A Mother’s Musings - Episode 4

From London to Denmark via Covid: A Mother’s Musings – Episode 4

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Three Funerals and a Wedding!

Personally, I wish it had been more Four Weddings and a Funeral, but such is the nature of expat life I suppose. Mourning while juggling the practical chaos of two small children left me wondering: how do other expats manage to grieve while living abroad? The emotional weight of loss feels compounded by distance, logistics, and the sense of being caught between two worlds.

I vividly remember, just before leaving for the Land of Hygge, a conversation I had with a friend:  

Me: “I am so lucky. Denmark is barely a two-hour flight from home; I’ll be back all the time!” 

Friend: “Well, of course, we’d love to see you, but another expat friend of mine says they only really come home for weddings or funerals, no matter where in the world they are.”

Me: “Oh no, no, no… that won’t be me!”  

Famous. Last. Words.  

In the 2.5 years we’ve lived in Denmark, I have returned home five times, which, in the grand scheme of expat life, might seem, perhaps, rather “lucky.” However, when you factor in the chaos, expense, and logistics—especially for unplanned trips such as funerals—it quickly becomes anything but.  

1st trip: Wedding (with kids in tow / 3 days at home)  

2nd trip: 40th birthday party (with kids in tow / 4 days in a holiday home)  

3rd trip: Granny’s funeral (without kids / 2 days at home)  

4th trip: Work (without kids / 2 days in an office)  

5th trip: Another funeral (with kids / 8 days at home)  

It’s fair to say, these weren’t the spontaneous home visits I once imagined—where I’d get my fill of fish and chips, stock up on armfuls of chocolate, specifically Dairy Milk chocolate (if you know, you know!) and indulge in long-overdue pub visits with friends. Instead, each trip was dictated by circumstance. These trips were either meticulously planned for a specific event, leaving no wriggle room for spontaneity (see trips 1, 2, 4), or they were hurried, emotional stops, where we crammed in whatever we could, given the less-than-frivolous circumstances (see trips 3 and 5).  

I’m well aware that I’m in a potentially more fortunate position than expats who live further afield or face greater hurdles in returning home. Still, each expat experience is uniquely challenging, shaped by its own set of circumstances. What I’ve discovered is that no matter the distance, the act of returning home—especially after an absence—carries an emotional weight that can’t be understated.

Before we left on our one-way ticket to Denmark, my vision of “going back home” was one of carefree, happy visits—reconnecting, recharging, and relaxing in the familiarity of old haunts and familiar faces. The reality, however, has been hugely different. I’ve learned that expectations as an expat are like toddlers on sugar highs—wild, unpredictable, and best managed with flexibility.  

What these trips have also taught me is just how much growth we’ve experienced as a family, both mentally and physically. Watching my children interact with relatives and friends during our last visit made me realise they’re no longer quite so little. Their bilingualism has shaped not only their identity but ours as parents, too. Denmark, with its quirks and customs, has left a lasting imprint on us in ways I never anticipated.  

And then there’s the strange sensation of going back. As Helen Russell (How To Raise a Viking) so perfectly puts it, after a stint abroad, returning home feels like someone’s pulled the tablecloth from underneath a pristinely laid table. Everything remains, but ever so slightly shifted. On this last visit, after an 18-month gap between trips, I finally understood what she meant. Home wasn’t quite home, and I wasn’t quite me. I was more of a… well, a tourist.  

Living abroad certainly stretches your sense of identity, leaving you in this in-between, matrix-like world and your feet aren’t quite touching the ground. You become a master at adaptation and resilience—finding comfort in your new surroundings while doing whatever you can to keep homesickness at bay. These trips back, whether for weddings, funerals, or fleeting work engagements, are poignant reminders that life continues, even in your absence.  

Still, I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything. Expat life has its chaos, its expense, its unpredictability and the joys of SKAT in Denmark. But it also brings growth, perspective, and an appreciation for the rare moments when you can both grieve and celebrate with those you left behind. Here’s hoping my next visit will be filled with more laughter and less grief, more leisure and fewer logistics – and a healthy serving of good old fashioned fish and chips!

 

Rasna Kaur Mistry
Rasna Kaur Mistry
Originally from London, Rasna moved to Denmark in 2022 with her husband and two young boys. After facing redundancy during Covid19 whilst on maternity leave(!), she embraced a fresh start with a job in Middelfart, saying "YES" to life in the second happiest country in the world! In 2024, she moved into a career in Marketing, combining her medtech experience with a love for storytelling. Outside of work, Rasna enjoys cooking, reading, and family time.

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