Before I start, I should probably explain a little about my family. I was born in 1977 and my parents divorced in 1981, so the vast majority of my life consisted of my mom and older sister living in one house and my dad living in another. There were a couple of additions along the way; my mom re-married, had another baby, then re-divorced. My dad re-married a woman who had a son already (so I had a brother for a few years), then they got divorced. When I was nine or ten, my dad re-married again and he and my step-mother have been together ever since. This marriage brought another sister, Jennifer, into the mix, who came via Vickie's (my step-mother) first marriage. So I have one sister, one half sister, and one step-sister, plus a mom, a dad, and a step-mother. Now that I've laid it all out, please understand that those titles will no longer be used. As far as I'm concerned, I have three sisters and a dad, a mom, and Vickie (who has always been very much a second mom to me, but for whatever reason she never got that title; she's always just been Vickie).
Growing up through the 80s and 90s, most of my friends came from "traditional" households where their parents were still married. Nowadays I'm sure my unique family is more the norm than that of the people who have remained married and raised their children together. I don't know the exact reason that my parents ever divorced, but I honestly don't much care. It was always normal to me that mom lived here and dad lived there. Everything was fine and I assume that I'm fairly well-adjusted (whatever that means). Dad and Vickie have been married for something in the neighborhood of 25 years now and they have always, always been there whenever I needed anything.
Last night, Dad and Vickie met us in Lima to take us out to dinner; it's something that happens semi-regularly. They get to spend time with the kids, Valerie and I get to sort of "take a break" from being the only set of eyes on the four little ones. Plus, we get to eat for free, which is always nice.
Unfortunately, last night's gathering was very much bittersweet. About a year ago or so, they (Dad & Vickie) told us (my sisters and I) of their plan for the future. They were going to buy a travel trailer and spend time moving around the country, living in campgrounds, while Vickie worked as a traveling nurse. Dad's company, where he's spent 40 years, probably won't be around in a few years and in order to protect his stocks, it's best he gets out sooner rather than later. I don't think any of us actually expected them to leave.
About eight months ago, they bought that trailer and moved to a campground about 20 minutes away. Dad was still working, as was Vickie, as she was unable to land the job she desired. I would get occasional updates about why they hadn't left yet and a few weeks ago, Jennifer told me Dad and Vickie had made plans to move back into their house. It looked like they would be sticking around, at least through the winter.
Not two days later, I got the call I was dreading. Dad told me that Vickie had landed a position in Richmond, Virginia, and that they would be leaving in two weeks. Last night's dinner gathering was the last time we will see them for a minimum of 13 weeks. By that time, it will be early December and they will likely head further south to avoid the harsh Ohio winter.
The dinner was normal. There was no sense of dread or even a sense that this was the end of a life that I had considered normal for so long. That is, normal until we left the restaurant. We all stood in the parking lot for what must have been 10 minutes, just talking and whatnot. Finally, it was time to say goodbye. I swear, until I heard my dad, my hero, sobbing uncontrollably as he hugged the kids and hugged my wife, it didn't even occur to me that this really was "goodbye". I was holding our youngest daughter and Dad reached over Valerie's shoulder and put his hand on my back. He gave me a quick squeeze, without looking at me, and he turned and walked off, obviously trying to compose himself. That was his goodbye to me. It was all he could do. (It took me a very long time and at least a few tissues to write this paragraph)
After they left, we put the kids in the van and Valerie and I stayed at chatted with Jennifer for a while. Valerie was and is quite upset about their departure. My kids have several sets of grandparent, but Dad and Vickie were quite active in seeking out time to see the kids. My in-laws live in town and they watch the kids for a few hours each day before Valerie gets off work, but the other grandparents can't be bothered most of the time. Dad and Vickie were always there for these kids, just as they were always there for me.
Now, they're gone.
I get it, it's not like they've died or anything. They have raised their kids and now it's time for them. They want to travel and move around from place to place. They've certainly put in the time and paid the dues; they should enjoy life while they're still young enough and healthy enough to do so. But understanding why they're doing what they're doing doesn't make it any less difficult for me, or, I'm sure, for them. And it doesn't make any of the emotions that Valerie and I are feeling any less valid.
It really didn't hit me until this morning and while I understand what's going on, I don't like it. I'm happy for them but at the same time I'm a little bit angry and a lot sad. Growing up, I had a very close relationship with my grandparents and I credit those relationships with building much of who I am as a person. I worry now that my children won't get the same benefits I had. Even though I understand the motivations, they just got these grandchildren, their only grandchildren, less than four years ago and the youngest is not yet two. No matter how often you skype with someone, it's not the same as being there. You can't attend a soccer game or take the family out to dinner, or have us over for a cookout, or come to birthday parties from a telephone. You just can't replace the personal contact that enriches lives.
If things go well for Dad and Vickie, if they stick to their plan, they'll come back to Ohio every once in a while. The kids will see them at Christmas, I hope, and maybe once more each year. That's not enough for the kids. And it's not enough for me. Will Amity even know who they are when they come home?
I know this is sounding more angry than I intended it to, but I always try to be as honest as possible on this site. I'm in no way trying to guilt them into changing their plans or anything like that. I have accepted what's happening, but I wish it wasn't happening. The kids need them in their lives. I need them in my life. But I'm also proud that they have the courage to start something new.
Hurry home you two. I already miss you too much for you to be away, and you haven't even left the state yet. I know we don't ever say it, that it's simply understood, but I love you both very much and you are missed greatly. Godspeed.
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