This weekend, my parents came out to visit us from New Jersey and when they left, I was a bawling mess. I am 33, a mother myself … and I cried like a baby after we said goodbye.
The fact that it was cold and miserable and raining here all day completely suited my mood. I felt sad for those whose Memorial Day barbecues and picnics and parades were tainted, but secretly I was happy for a legit excuse to stay inside our new (still-in-process-of-unpacking) casa. I just didn’t feel like doing much of anything.
You see, I hate goodbyes. I used to hate goodbyes with Luis. Over the 5+ years of being in an international relationship, the sweet anticipation of our visits would be over much too quickly and we’d be left miserable … the lowest of lows following the highest of highs. It was tough, but we got through it.
And now it’s the same feelings all over again, except now they are for my family … who used to be driving distance when I lived in D.C., but now is a schlep away (read as: a plane ride away). And now we have a toddler and a baby on the way, complicating things even more and making the distance between N.J. and Michigan seem that much further.
We try to see each other every three months or so (and were spoiled with the whole family being together in Jamaica last month), but it is hard to coordinate schedules/vacation time and now financially it’s getting even tougher because we have to pay for Maya’s flights, too (before she turned two she was free). And we could drive (it’s about 11 hours) … but for as much as I adore my husband, unlike my dad, he is NOT one to drive well throughout the night/for long distances. Let’s just say I’d need to be awake while he’s driving as well as doing my half of the drive, if history is any indication of the future!
This means I am left to just deal with our situation … recognizing others have it much, much worse. And so to
avoid a pity party cope, I look at the pictures and watch videos and try to keep the memories of each visit close at heart til the next one. I just don’t know a definitive “next one” … and that always makes it harder. But it does keep me going, and that’s enough for now.
At least, that’s what I’ll tell myself. ‘Cauz big girls don’t cry, right???
How about you? Do you have family living far away? How do you cope?