Saying Good-bye is Painful

I am getting ready to say goodbye to my first and only grandchild, my only daughter and her husband. They are moving by choice to the other side of the world to do work that is laudable but dangerous, and I’m having trouble with it.

The first time my daughter moved to Africa to do her work, she was single and essentially alone there. I was terrified for her, had panic attacks, and didn’t sleep for almost six months. Even though she didn’t admit it much, I know it was terribly difficult and scary for her too. She called me almost more than when she worked in Houston.

Because she will be returning with her husband, I am less worried. I expect that he will be as protective as possible in a dangerous and unpredictable locale, but I am really struggling with the loss of my granddaughter and with my anger at my daughter for risking themselves and taking Lily so far away.

In my last blog, I talked at length about the miracle of being a grandparent, and I’m sad about not being able to grandparent my sweet Lily. She is a darling little girl who is just beginning to coo and smile. At the very time her little personality will be most apparent, she’ll be gone.

I know I’m not alone in feeling this loss. Because of the ease of mobility, first within the United States and now throughout the world, the extended family is eroding more and more with each generation. I consider it a huge loss to the children involved as well, and as a teacher, I see the effects. Kids are more disconnected, and they see themselves as more vulnerable. Their relationships with their nuclear families are often strained and difficult.

I grew up in a great family with lots of aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents, all who lived just minutes away. I spent as much time staying at my grandmom’s and my aunts’ homes as I did my own, and I loved every minute.

My grandparents were the storytellers in my family. They shared the stories of our heritage and our Armenian ancestry. They introduced me to the generations in our family, and they taught me our customs. My grandmother taught me how to cook, sew and love others, and my grandfather taught me about pride and generosity. I adored them, and they adored me.

Unconditional love is the sweetest of all—no expectations, no criticism, and no judgment. That was the love I experienced with my grandparents, and that was the kind of love I want to share with my granddaughter. I’m sad at not being able to. I’m sad at not sharing her life and not observing her growth.

Next time, I’ll talk about some of the strategies for coping, as I’m really hoping to be better able to handle this challenge than I did her last departure.