Family is precious.
But family cannot always be available.
That is why I am trying to protect the other relationships in my life too.
The friend I haven't called in months.
The neighbor I usually only wave to.
The person I used to work with who keeps saying we should get coffee.
The woman I see regularly who always seems happy to talk.
As we age, maintaining friendships can require more intention.
People move.
Health changes.
Driving becomes harder for some.
Old routines disappear.
But connection still matters.
Sometimes the best thing I can do when I am missing my grandchildren is not to stare at my phone hoping they call.
Sometimes it is to call someone else.
Not as a replacement.
As a reminder that the heart has room for many kinds of connection.
I’m Learning to Stay Curious About Your Life
There is a difference between wanting to be involved in someone's life and wanting access to every part of it.
I am trying to learn that difference.
I don't need to know everything.
I don't need constant updates.
But when we do talk, I want to listen.
Not only ask whether you are eating properly.
Not only ask whether work is going well.
Not immediately turn the conversation into advice.
I want to know what makes you laugh now.
What music you listen to.
What you are excited about.
What you are trying to figure out.
What kind of person you are becoming.
Because sometimes grandparents can love the younger version of a grandchild so much that we forget to meet the adult standing in front of us.
I don't want to do that.
I don't want to keep loving only the little child who once held my hand.
I want to know you now.
I’m Learning Not to Make Every Goodbye Sad
This one is hard.
When visits become less frequent, it can be tempting to hold onto every one of them.
To say:
“Already?”
“You just got here.”
“Can't you stay another hour?”
“When are you coming back?”
Sometimes those words are harmless.
Sometimes they are simply affection.
But repeated often enough, they can make leaving feel like hurting someone.
I don't want that for you.
I want you to be able to hug me goodbye and leave knowing I am okay.
I want you to drive home remembering the laughter at the table, not the sadness at the door.
So I am practicing something new.
When it is time for you to go, I try to say:
“I loved having you here.”
Because that is what I really mean.
Not don't leave.
Just:
I'm glad you came.
There is a world of difference between those two messages.
I’m Learning That Missing Someone Is Not an Emergency
I wish I had understood this earlier.
Missing someone feels uncomfortable.
Sometimes very uncomfortable.
But not every uncomfortable feeling needs to be immediately fixed.
I can miss you on a Wednesday afternoon without needing you to call me on Wednesday afternoon.
I can wish you were sitting across from me and still make myself a cup of coffee, turn on some music, go outside, or call a friend.
I can feel two things at once.
I can miss you and still be okay.
I can feel lonely for an hour without believing I have a lonely life.
I can wish you visited more often while also understanding why you cannot.