5:45 a.m. Sunday, June 2, 2013. "Okay." *Long pause* "All right." Nobody moved. Another drawn out, "O-kay, let's start moving toward the door." My son-in-law was trying to get his family and their friends who had come to say a final farewell to go outside the house. Finally everyone was standing around in front of the house instead of inside. Amber was left to activate the new push-button lock on the door. I could tell that act alone was pretty painful for her--almost like a death. This is the same person who stared a long while out her dining room window the evenig before and finally said her quiet goodbye to Long's Peak.
We had all known for a depressingly long time this was coming. Amber packed and cleaned for days on end. They bought new bedding, new dishes, new pots and pans and cutlery for what was to become a "Vacation Rental by Owner." They themed each room, i.e. "The Bird Room" (Morgan's old room--not sure it changed that much since she has collected empty bird nests for a long while, but it was the emptiest I had ever seen it), "The Animal Room" (Jonathan's old room, once home to trophies and all things athletic, now sporting pictures of fox, big horn and deer, complete with antlers on the wall) and "The Bear Room" (Luke's bedroom--once known far and wide as the Lego Kingdom, now decorated with bear posters, bear pictures and a cool wood-like carving of a bear with a fish in his mouth.) New beds had to be purchased, another couch was located on Craig's list and a table was built to accommodate 8-10 guests. Decisions had to be made: which games stay, which games go with them, which appliances make the trip, which ones need to be replaced. No personal items could be left in the house. Keepsakes had to be carefully boxed and stored in the garage, assuming that anything left in the vacation home could be stolen or broken. A new grill was purchased while space was found on the Budget rental truck for the grungy old one. The move, once couched in the phrase, "THE ADVENTURE BEGINS," had disintegrated into a gut-wrenching, heart-breaking tragedy.
Perhaps you think my opinions a bit dramatic or exaggerated, but this is how I saw the whole unfolding "adventure." I don't think I've ever known anyone forced to move completely against her will. In my experience, normally accompanying a family move is a compelling reason such as, "Daddy is getting transferred to Atlanta," "Daddy's company went out of business, and we have to relocate," "Daddy got a job offer in another state, kids, and we just can't turn it down." "Our credit is really bad, so we're just going to move away and start over." But when "Daddy" has a great job, the kids have rewarding friendships, the relationship with the local school is perfect, the oldest kid in school is between his sophomore and junior years and things in general are just hummin' along, why move?
No time to ponder this enigma any longer as the Budget truck hauling the Subaru followed by the Previa Van, affectionately called Beannie, was pulling away from the house and out to the highway. This is where I fit into the story. Of course, I didn't want Amber and her family to move. But the unvarnished reality is that it's not my deal, not my business and nobody asked my opinion. Does that allow my feelings to become detached from the situation? Absolutely not. The old saying always proves true, "A son is a son 'till he takes a wife. A daughter's a daughter the rest of her life." Amber is my daughter, I love her, and I love spending time with her. It's that simple. Now I was watching her drive out of my life. Get a grip. There's Facebook, Facetime and Skype. I'll be fine. But I wasn't fine. I was actually sobbing. It was some comfort that Alex, an upcoming senior at Estes Park High School who had been living with Amber and family during the past school year, gave me a long hug. But the sobbing continued as we dropped Alex off at his new (really old since he had lived there the year before) home.
That was last Sunday, and I cried all day. Actually I fell asleep a little while in the afternoon. It's probably physically impossible to sleep and cry at the same time, so I didn't really cry all day.
When Amber gave in to reality and posted on Facebook, "We are moving to California in 10 days," followed by "This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do...", I found some of the comments appalling and condescending. But that's just me. I didn't write the post, and I didn't comment. I knew Amber saw moving as an exercise in obedience and not the assumed "adventure" many of her friends supposed it would be.
Red, swollen eyes greeted me in the mirror on Monday morning. I decided a long bike would be therapy for my lingering sadness. I didn't cry as much, but it took very little to stir my emotions and remind me of Luke's smile or Jonathan's voice. Every tall, muscular kid on a skate board was Jonathan. A boy walking toward me with long, straight hair bouncing with each step was Luke. I did a double-take when a silver-grey Previa turmed left in front of me. It only served to remind me that the driver was a stranger and not Amber and the kids. Just riding my bike down to Brodie and Fishcreek knowing that Amber wouldn't be at our meeting place made me cry. Good neighbors are a blessing. Good neighbors who are good friends are a gift from God. Anni is just that gift. She is kind and understanding with a listening ear--just the medicine I needed. We had a good talk on Monday.
On Tuesday, my friend, Barbie, called from Florida to see how I was doing. Barbie teaches fifth grade and related a couple of stories that really got my attention. The first was about a student of hers whose family got relocated half-way through the school year. It was decided that to minimize disruption, this boy would stay behind with his grandma to finish 5th grade. Of course, school ended, and the boy rejoined his family in their new town which was hundreds of miles away. The grandmother was highly distressed. Her nearest and dearest had been torn away from her. Even though she knew the day would come, it did little to ease her sorrow when her grandson rejoined his family in another state. Suddenly, and I do mean suddenly, I realized that I was not the only person getting relieved of grandma duties. There must be thousands of grammies all over the good ol' USA having their families torn from them in one way or another. It could be a death or a move (I prefer the move option) but really, the result is the same: shock, sadness and grief along with Question #1: "Why?" Immediately, I resolved in my heart to pray for this particular grandmother of the fifth-grade boy. Why stop there? I could pray for every grandma without a face or a name who had been abruptly and painfully parted from her grandchild or children. Now I had a purpose. There were grandparents out there with whom I could commiserate and lift in prayer--a fulfilling alternative to sobbing.
Story Number 2: Barbie had an emotional, heart-jerking grandmother story of her own that she saved for the very last to share with me. Her granddaughter had just been diagnosed with some kind of growth in her forehead. Her doctors had no idea what it was or how to proceed. Along with that terrifying news was an additional horror: her granddaughter's cheekbones were deteriorating. What? This is a perfectly healthy, physically fit 14-year-old. Barbie went on to explain how this completely unexpected health bombshell was affecting the family's forseeable plans. I listened with most of my hearing capacity, but I started to think...what in the wide world am I doing? I'm having a fit about my family who moved away? OK, so it is 1,200 miles that take 20 hours 9 minutes to drive. Still, they just moved. They didn't get sucked up in a tornado or swallowed by the earth. My family is alive and well and living in Redding, California. I should be thankful. They made the trip safely. I should rejoice that they are exploring the area and having new adventures. (There--I said the A word.) And I will rejoice. I will bless the LORD at all times. His praise will continually be in my mouth. God reigns. God rules my heart. Along with King Solomon I say: "O Lord God of Israel, there is no God like you in the skies above or on the earth below who unswervingly keeps convenant with his servants and relentlessly loves them as they sincerely live in obedience to your way." I will make no time for sobbing, no part of my day will be devoted to questioning, no regretting a decision that was not mine to make. I will get my priorities straight, pray for the lost and reach out to the hurting. And I will remember to call Barbie to thank her for calling me back from the depths of despair where I had no business in the first place.
Always,
Winter
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
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