As the daughter of a military member, I spent my entire childhood living in a state without my grandparents close by. Not only did my grandparents reside in a different zip code than us, but both sets lived in an entirely different state. Thankfully they at least were about an hour apart from each other in the same state. We saw them every year, sometimes twice, usually Christmas or summers. For me and most of my military dependent friends, this arrangement was completely normal. I had no idea any other type of grandparent/grandchild relationship existed.
While I absolutely cherish all the unique memories I have with my grandparents, when I became a mother, I desired something greater for my own children. I wanted them to have access to their grandparents in a way that I never did.
Ironically, our eldest son was born in Idaho where my husband was stationed with the Air Force. Before he was even a year old we were transferred to Italy. His grandparents lived in Texas; so much for him getting to spend weekends sleeping over at grandma’s house.
With baby number two on the way, my husband separated from the Air Force and we returned home to Texas, living in the same state as both sets of grandparents for the remainder of our children’s school-aged and college years. An unanticipated bonus: our kids having cousins close to their age they could grow up with.
July 2020, our first grandchild, Huf Venture Phillip arrived. It’s weird. I wasn’t sure how I felt about becoming a grandmother; after all, I am perpetually searching for the ever-elusive fountain of youth. Would becoming a grandmother instantly age me?
Being born at the height of COVID 19 meant no one except his parents were present at the hospital when Huf made his grand entrance. Although I did not expect to be present at the actual birth, I’d pictured myself impatiently pacing in the hospital waiting room anxiously awaiting his arrival like every other grandparent to be. Instead, we were stuck six hours away expecting a call from his daddy at any moment.
Texas is a big state. My grandparents were an eight-hour drive in a different state, we are a six-hour drive from Huf, in the same state. Visits require at least one day off of work for me and someone to fill my pastor husband’s pulpit on Sundays. Nonetheless, Huf’s Tito and Gigi have managed visits to see him every month thus far.
That little guy has magical abilities, he can make us smile just by being together in the same room. Everyone knows babies get more fun as they get older, and our little guy is no exception. I love reading Huf books, talking to him while changing his diaper, sharing tummy time and toys with him, giving him snacks, and just recently, taking him to the playground in his stroller. He likes the swing but isn’t too sure about the slide or jungle gym just yet.
Just as things were going so well, life threw us a curveball. Recent college graduates, Huf’s mommy, and daddy are just now entering the grown-up workforce and their career paths have taken them to Oklahoma. While Tito and Gigi are very happy for Huf’s parents, we are so very sad about the additional distance between our homes. Now living nine hours away instead of just six, weekend visits are going to require more planning.
I’ve been in a state of denial about the whole move until this past week when reality hit me square in the face. Tito traveled to Abilene to help with the move while Gigi had to stay behind and work. When a picture of smiling Huf appeared via text while I was at the office, I couldn’t hold the tears at bay, he was still in Texas but already I was missing out on a visit, the first one ever.
Melancholy is an apt description of my mood the three days my husband was gone helping Huf’s mommy and daddy move further away. I’ve tried so hard to be brave but today when my son texted his new Oklahoma address, an incredible sadness permeated the rest of my day.
Funny, until Huf came along, I never really thought about what it must’ve been like for my grandparents to have their grandchildren living so far away unable to actively participate in all of the important childhood milestones. My father is an only child, so my siblings and I were the only grandkids, perhaps that’s why they spent so much quality time focusing on us whenever we visited.
Although it has crossed my mind, moving to Oklahoma just isn’t an option, after all, we have two other children still residing in Texas. Surely one or both of them will also grace us with more grandchildren and then we’d be far away from those babies.
What’s a sad Gigi to do? There really is no perfect answer, but thank God for facetime, it’s not the same as being together in person, but seeing Huf’s precious smiling face, even on the other end of a camera is always a day brightener.
Until Next Time,
Becky J. Miller
Warrior Princess