The good news: I only live four hours away from my little grandson Rider, an easy trip. The bad news: I live four whole, long hours from my little grandson Rider, miles and miles from this baby boy who has so captured my heart.
On the one hand this relatively short trip up the I-95 corridor to visit him is not so bad. I’m actually pretty lucky it’s only that far away. Gone for many are the days, actual or fictional, when generations live nearby, a walk down the street, a five minute drive, in the next village over. Now are the days when children leave home for some far away college, then back pack through Europe or go to graduate school, and eventually marry some nice person also from far away. Then the happy couple ends up living miles, hours, plane flights away from their parents, several states or maybe even continents away. I should talk. I live nine long hours from my parents when I’m assigned stateside and handfuls of international time zones away when I’m working for two or three years at a time abroad. Four or so hours of driving in a way isn’t that bad.
None of this changes the fact that I not only miss Rider, I miss out on Rider’s growth. I miss the milestones, the dozens of moments like what we experienced with our own children, when you wake up one morning and realize her eyes are focusing farther than yesterday. He is holding his head up longer than he did the day before. She laughed. He vocalized a sound that sounded like mama (or was that grandpa?). I have seen Rider about every three to four weeks since he was born. For the first few months, my dear little one was a newborn, but the last time I saw him, that had changed. He had become a three month old infant, looking around, interacting with people and with the big world around him, including his own fist which he had learned to find and suck on.
What will he be doing the next time? What other scores of developmental achievements will I miss? I’m glad for now to be only four hours away. I’m not looking forward to my next overseas assignment. I will miss scores and scores of milestones, Rider’s small or big accomplishments, as he grows up. I dread being gone for months, then retuning and needing to be introduced to a walking, talking, toddler, “Rider, this is your grandpa.” I’ll want to say, “I first met you when you were seven hours old. I spent time with you often during your first year of life. I held you and hugged you and even rocked you to sleep those first weeks and months after you were born.”
I guess I won’t worry about that for now. I will visit him as much as I can, enjoy watching and being amazed at his growth and development in spite of some moments missed. If I have to be far away for a bit, I will trust my love for him, my grandfatherly essence, to overcome whatever we’ve both missed.
Rider and Grandpa
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