Outside Looking In

When I think of my daughter and my grandchildren I sometimes feel like a window-shopper, face pressed against the glass, longing for the treasures that lie within, knowing I cannot have them. I long to be a part of what is going on inside, to actively participate in their lives. The physical distance between us is a barrier to being able to reach out and touch the people I love the most. Though I would never tell them so, my heart breaks because of that distance. While webcam and phone calls help ease the burden, there is no comparison to being physically present in their lives. I would trade almost everything I own for the chance to hold them in my arms more frequently than once every twelve to eighteen months. And with the downturn in the economy I foresee that stretching out to every two or three years. I know that as my grandchildren grow they will become busier with their own lives and the webcams will slow from once a week to once a month or so. The phone calls will taper off as they get busy with school, sports, friends. I won't resent it, but I will regret it. I respect my daughter's decision to move with her husband to live in his British homeland. I am grateful that she has his parents fairly close by to be involved with my grandchildren, to give their support and love, to give them that wonderful experience that only doting grandparents can provide. Yet, I wish my husband and I could do the same. In lieu of frequent visits, I hold on to the idea that we may be able to have them come for long summer visits every few years, allowing us the opportunity to shower them with our love and give them a sense of their American family heritage. I hope to give them many happy memories of time spent with us, to feel comfort and joy in our love. An ocean seperates us, but blood bonds us. I pray that they will understand and treasure that.