The summer that Henry died, we were in Florida visiting family.  One day we drove down to Sarasota to the Ringling Circus Museum.  It is always one of the kids’ favorites and it was becoming a summer tradition for us.  On the drive back home after the museum, we were listening to the Nitty Gritty Dirtband’s bluegrass rendition of  “I Saw the Light.”  As we drove along I-275, we all practiced giving our loudest and proudest “yeehaw!”

I went first –  “YEEEEEEEE-HAWWWWWW!!!”

Everyone took a turn and soon the car was a symphony of Earl Scruggs and his famous three-finger finger roll with a chorus of yeehaws.  When it seemed like all the yeehawing was finished I heard a small voice from the back, full of gusto and exuberance.  “Heee-yaw!  Heee-yaw!”  Henry was excited about all the music and yeehaws and he was determined to join in the fun.  We all laughed about it and Henry kept hee-yawing all the ride home.

Less than a month later Henry was dead.  At his funeral, we invited people to share stories of Henry.  My mom shared this story and it made me laugh and cry at the same time.  I could remember that little voice shouting out yeehaws and the pride that radiated from his face as he participated with everyone else.  It occurred to me that Henry had moved to a new country that I couldn’t visit.  I hoped and had faith, but in the present, all I had left was the memory of his little, “hee-yaw!” ringing in my ears.

During this past year, we have been adjusting to a new country of our own.  It has been difficult and challenging.  It has been uncomfortable and often not very fun.  On some mornings, often in a stress filled rush,  as I drive the kids to school, I turn on bluegrass music and blast it out the windows.  I love the contrast of driving through winding and ancient French roads around tiny little roundabouts in our Puegot, while Earl Scruggs, Roy Acuff, Maybelle Carter, and Doc Watson, play.  Whenever we listen to it, I remind the kids of an important truth:

“You may live in France, but you are American.  You have to remember your yeehaw!”

To make sure that we remember it, we practice it on the way to school.  We all scream out our loudest “YEEEEEEEHAWWWWWW!!!!” and then we judge who gave the best one.  It is a fun game and it always makes us laugh.  By the time we get to school, we don’t remember what we were stressed about or what was so frustrating.

Our morning yeehaw tradition reminds us daily of another truth – we are all just temporary travelers.  It is just a silly game, but it has a deeper purpose.  I want the kids to have a sense of roots, of belonging to a particular place even though they have never lived there.  I want them to remember where they are from.  I want them to remember their yeehaw.

Loss is jarring and reminds us of how fragile life really is.  It forces us to confront the temporary nature of our time on earth.  The problem is that we often get comfortable here.  We feel like permanent residents rather than the temporary expatriates that we really are.  The blessing of loss is that it renews our focus.  It reminds us to use our time wisely.

One of the things I have always loved about travel and expat life, is that it is like being given a mini-lifetime.  There is a destination, objectives to achieve, and experiences to be had.  There is also limited time.  You know that the trip or the expat assignment will end. When the trip is over you will have to leave and go back to your own country.

That is the reality for all of us.  We have limited time in this country.  We are not from here and we cannot stay here.  We are from a grand country where pain is no more, death has been defeated, and time is unlimited.  Weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning.  We must always remember where we are from.  We must always remember our yeehaw.