Help Bring the Last Part of Our Family Home
Last year, our family made what we believed was the biggest and most hopeful decision of our lives.
We left Brisbane and relocated to South Africa.
At the time, it did not feel reckless. It felt necessary.
Like many families, we carried the quiet belief that a different place might allow us to breathe differently. We hoped the move would create more space for our children, reconnect us with family, and help us rebuild parts of ourselves worn down by years of pressure, exhaustion, mental health struggles, and the constant pace of survival.
We sold almost everything we owned in Australia.
Our house. Our cars. Furniture. Tools. Appliances. The ordinary objects that quietly make up a life.
What we could not take with us, we sold, donated, or gave away.
We packed our lives into 12 boxes and suitcases. We organized visas, schools, flights, permits, and paperwork. We prepared our children for a new country and arranged transport plans for our pets.
We truly believed we were building a future.
At first, South Africa felt full of possibility. There was sunlight, space, family, the mountain, the ocean, and the feeling that perhaps we had made the right choice.
Our children adjusted faster than we expected. They explored, laughed, and settled into routines. Our dog Ella and our cat Luna adapted too, becoming anchors of comfort and familiarity in an unfamiliar environment.
But slowly, things began to unravel.
It was not one catastrophe. It was accumulation.
Financial strain. Housing instability. Ongoing security concerns. Emotional exhaustion. Administrative problems. Scam and fraud-related issues. The constant feeling of trying to stay ahead of problems that never fully stopped coming.
Over time, our family began living in a constant state of tension and uncertainty. We stopped sleeping properly. We became hyper-alert to everything. Even the systems we depended on — phones, banking, travel arrangements, appointments, housing, logistics — began to feel unstable and unpredictable.
Eventually, we reached a point where we knew we could not continue.
Returning to Australia was not simple.
When people hear the phrase “moving home,” they often imagine relief and stability. But when we came back to Brisbane, we were not returning to the life we had left. That life no longer existed.
We had sold our home and most of our belongings. Our savings had been consumed by relocation costs, emergency expenses, temporary accommodation, and the enormous financial strain of rebuilding a life across two countries.
We arrived back emotionally exhausted and financially stretched.
For weeks, we lived in temporary accommodation while trying to secure a rental during one of the worst housing shortages Brisbane has experienced. We lived out of bags, bought second-hand furniture, rebuilt bedrooms for our children piece by piece, and tried to recreate some sense of normality from almost nothing.
And through all of this, one thing remained unfinished.
Ella and Luna.
Our pets were never “just animals.” They are part of our family.
Last year, we also lost our dog Levi during this period of upheaval and instability.
Levi was our middle child — a 4-year-old French Bulldog who somehow became the emotional centre of the house. Playful, stubborn, affectionate, and full of personality, he was a complete larrikin.
He had an uncanny ability to sense when someone was struggling emotionally and would quietly stay close beside them. Over time, he became an unofficial therapy dog for all of us, especially during periods of stress and anxiety. Even in difficult moments, Levi brought humour and life back into the room.
His loss devastated our family.
For our children especially, the animals became tied to safety, continuity, and emotional survival during an incredibly difficult chapter of our lives. Losing Levi changed the emotional weight of bringing Ella and Luna home. It stopped feeling like a practical task and became something much deeper: protecting the parts of our family that still remained together.
There are still moments our children speak about Levi as if he should walk back into the room.
Ella is our 6-year-old German Shepherd × Rottweiler cross with a calm, intelligent nature and a deep loyalty to our family. She is gentle with our children, incredibly intuitive, and happiest outside following us around the garden. Through all of the upheaval of the past year, Ella has remained a source of grounding and comfort for all of us.
Luna is our 1-year-old black-and-white domestic short-hair cat with an enormous personality. She is playful, curious, sassy, and somehow manages to make every room feel lighter. She has become especially attached to the children and brings a sense of warmth and normality that has been deeply missed while we have been separated from her.
Our children ask about them constantly. They count the days. They talk about where Ella will sleep, where Luna will sit, and what it will feel like when everyone is finally together again.
Bringing them home has become symbolic of our family surviving intact.
We have already paid the overwhelming majority of the relocation process ourselves, including:
- international pet transport services
- veterinary preparation
- import permits
- export documentation
- vaccinations and bloodwork
- quarantine preparation
- flights
- customs and handling fees
We have done everything we possibly could to carry these costs ourselves while rebuilding our lives in Australia from the ground up.
The remaining costs are the quarantine and final veterinary clearance fees required for Ella and Luna to complete the import process and finally come home to us.
We are incredibly grateful that, while we complete this process, they are currently being cared for in a safe and comfortable environment where they are well looked after and we receive regular updates about how they are doing. Knowing they are safe has brought enormous relief during an otherwise stressful period of separation.
At the same time, every update reminds us how much we miss them.
Asking for help is not easy for us. Like many families, we are used to trying to solve problems privately. But after a year of rebuilding, we have reached a point where we simply cannot bridge this final gap alone.
If you are reading this, we are asking for help bringing the last part of our family home.
Every donation, no matter how small, helps us move closer to reuniting with Ella and Luna. If you cannot donate, simply sharing our story means more than we can express.
This past year has taught us how quickly stability can disappear — but it has also taught us how much kindness matters.
We are slowly rebuilding. Our children are settling back into school. We finally found a rental home. We are rebuilding routines and learning how to breathe again.
Now we are simply trying to finish the final piece.
To bring Ella and Luna home.
Thank you for reading our story, for caring, and for helping our family take one more step toward feeling whole again.
