My son has decided to move back to Louisiana come January.
Bearing in mind I have three important people in my life who have lost their children to death, I am trying to process this turn of events with perspective while still allowing myself to be sad. It's been a less than smooth week.
Yes, I know my son is still alive, and I can and will reach out to him often.
But I am still grieving. I'm upset that he's moving far enough away that I couldn't drive to see him in one day. (Unless I suddenly develop the ability to drive for 17 hours without falling asleep.) I'm sort of--and yes this is ridiculously petty--bummed about going on vacation to the same state each year, or even twice a year. But mostly, and this is cart before the horse truth, I am already missing the idea of being the kind of gramma I hoped to be.
He is not married, not even engaged. We know though time flies, he's 26--when did that happen? Perhaps one day he will be a daddy. (I mean, he had me save his Lego, there has to be a reason.)
He will be there. They will be there.
I will be here.
That doesn't fit in with the image of me frequently baby-sitting, reading to, rocking, wagonging, swinging, painting with, chocolate sharing with, and reading to (I know, that's a repeat--I hoped to do it often) my someday grandchild(ren).
Admittedly, I'm sad that automatically I'd take a second and distant seat to the local grandmother. Yes, I know this is petty, but it's how I feel. I'm working through it, all the ugly of me.
For a number of years, it was just Mac and me. He has been welcoming to Brad. I was and still am looking forward to having a daughter-in-law one day. I've always been open to sharing Mac around the holidays. I have lived without seeing him on Thanksgiving a few years. I never wanted to be controlling of his time. But this one, this move, makes me want to duct tape him to the couch and say no.
I know that's extreme, and of course, I'd never do it. Convicted felons aren't allowed to be teachers. I just don't know how else to process all this other than to feel it and name it. I lack the graciousness to just say I hope for the best and mean it because my heart's imagination is running rampant.