The earth seems to rotate a bit faster in times like these – months fly by as though they were weeks; weeks like days, and days as mere hours. What was at one time a distant speck of land on the horizon, with a vast ocean between here and there, is now a giant rock wall that we are about to hit full force; and we got here in what seems like the blink of an eye. Somebody skipped a few chapters forward on the DVD, right?
Just over five years ago, my wife and I, along with our two young children, packed up our belongings, and our little family of four moved from San Diego (Escondido, CA) to Memphis (Olive Branch, MS). The catalyst that moved us from A to B was a great career opportunity, but the real reason we made the move was to be near family. Specifically, we wanted to be close to my mom and dad (with a sister, her husband and two little nephews nearby as an added bonus). We were also going to be much closer to Jackie’s family – icing on the cake. In general, we wanted to give our kids a chance to know their grandparents outside of a 2-3 day visit once or twice a year; and we wanted to give our parents a chance to get to know their grandkids. And, hey, I would have been lying at the time if I had said I wasn’t interested in forging a deeper relationship with my mom, dad and siblings.
Five years later? Success! (I won’t say, “Mission Accomplished”, because, of course, relationships last a lifetime – and then some – so we’re never done growing closer to one another; at least not in my book.) Since our arrival in Spring 2006, our family has grown. We’ve added our own third child to the mix, one of my sisters has moved into the area along with her husband and child, and my sister-in-law joined us in Olive Branch last fall. Our house has been two miles away from my folks’ place for nearly five years. We never quite reached “Everybody Loves Raymond” status – there were no unannounced parents barging through the front (or back) door – but we certainly did get close (and that’s a good thing). Impromptu drive-bys would turn into lengthy, heartwarming conversations between father and son. Phone calls from my dad would turn into Grandpa + Grandkids sharing an ice cream cone at McDonalds. Unplanned encounters at Walgreens, gas stations and Kroger happened on occasion, which always made me smile. Countless post-church family meals took place over the years at Costco (hot dog combos and cheese pizza slices FTW!), Back Yard Burger and Mi Pueblo. The kids will forever cherish swimming in the inflatable (yet nearly always patched and still leaking air) pools in my parents’ backyard. And still more memories: Dad coming to my rescue when my car was broken (again)… Mom saving the day when we needed a last-minute babysitter… I could keep going on and on, but A) you would probably get bored, and B) I would probably start tearing up again. (That’s tearing as in “moisture in the eyes”, not as in “ripping something”).
In short, our stay in Memphis/Olive Branch has been an amazingly wonderful experience on so many different levels. The family bonds that have been built, the memories that have been created, the lessons learned, the laughter shared… it’s been priceless.
And yet, here we are.
Even before we left San Diego, we knew that this day would come; we knew (or had a VERY strong hunch) that Memphis was not going to be our “forever home”. But knowing in advance that something is going to happen doesn’t necessarily make it easier to handle when it actually does happen. And it is happening now.
We’re leaving. Next week. Yes, we will miss our home (our first ever house), our church, and our friends. And we will terribly miss our siblings, our nieces and nephews. But to be honest, that’s the easy stuff. What’s presenting quite a challenge to me is saying goodbye to my mom and dad. I’ve of course said a big goodbye to them before – 19 years ago when I moved 500 miles away for college, and again five years later when I moved to Seattle. But this goodbye is proving to be harder. A lot harder. Our lives have become so intertwined over the past half-decade… that departing now is beginning to feel a bit – and at times, a lot – like the tearing of some pretty high-quality fabric.
I love my parents. I value their wisdom, their discernment, their company, their laughter, their unconditional love. I love just hanging out with them. I love serving God alongside them. I love how they’ve been there for me whenever I’ve needed anything – whether I was 3, 11, or 31 – whenever I’ve fallen and scraped my knees (both real and proverbial), they have showered me with love, affection, guidance, discipline, comfort, encouragement… And I know that my wife and kids have become kind of hooked on them as well.
And yet, now is the time to say goodbye. Granted, it’s not like one of us is dying, or as if we’re never going to see each other again. We’re “just” moving away to the opposite side of the world. Not down the block, not to the next city or county, and not even an airplane ride away. We’re moving three airplane rides away – even if someone’s in a hurry, they’re not going to get from Memphis to Singapore in less than around 30 hours. Yep – the other side of the world. But, hey, as Rich Mullins once so eloquently sang:
“Well the other side of the world
Is not so far away as I thought that it was
As I thought that it was so far away
But the other side of the world
Is not so far away
And the distance just dissolves into the love
Into the love…”
And yes, we have cell phones and e-mail and Facebook and Twitter and Skype. But no technology can replace 3 year-old Jude running to meet Grandpa at the church entrance on Sunday mornings… or Jordan feeling like a princess as she hangs out at one of Grandma’s jewelry shows… or Jonathan kissing his grandparents goodbye and goodnight – as we prepare to make the 4-minute drive home after a family gathering at their house.
Yep – that chapter in our life is coming to a close. Rapidly. Still, we count the past five years as an amazing blessing – we have created memories that will last a lifetime. In fact, I know that, years down the road, my kids will be able to look back on the years 2006-2011 with great gladness in their hearts, as I do the years 1985-1991, years when I lived as a child in relatively close proximity to my cousins, aunts and uncles, and grandparents. (In fact, in a way, I think our move overseas could be a bit of karmic retribution for my parents – they moved away from their parents as newlyweds, stayed away 15 years, moved back for six, and then moved 800 miles away when their three youngest children were 16, 13 & 9.) ;-)
So, yes, I’m sad about having to say goodbye to Mom and Dad. And I’m sad when I think about not being around them for awhile. And I’m sad when I think about my children not getting to see Grandma and Grandpa several times a week. But what really forces me to fight back the tears right now is when I stop and think about the fact that our departure is making my parents sad. The last thing I ever want to do – in fact, just about the last thing I’ve ever wanted to do in my entire life – is make life harder on my folks. They’ve given so much over the past four decades of parenthood, sacrificed so selflessly, that all I want to be able to do is give them the world. And instead, right now, I’m in a sense cutting out a big chunk of their world and taking it 10,000 miles away.
Over-dramatic? Possibly – but this is at least what it feels like right now.
I know that they’ll survive. And we’ll survive. Life will go on. The tears – on both sides of the Pacific – will only last for a short season. The earth will slow down to its normal rotation speed. And before long, we’ll all be settling into our new, respective “normals”. Our house on the corner will be filled with tenants, but I’m guessing that Dad will still drive by from time to time, remembering when… Jude will ask where Grandma and Grandpa are, and it’ll probably be awhile before he’s old enough to understand that Singapore is not just a van-ride away from their house. And we’ll all learn how to incorporate Skype-ing into our regular routine. Perhaps we’ll even have a standing “Skype Date” – maybe Friday nights/Saturday mornings at 8 PM/9 AM? We won’t be able to share homemade Chef Boyardee pizza, but laughter and stories and memories can still be had through the magic of webcams and microphones.
Physical proximity may be about to change for a few years, but that distance between us will not be able to erase the closeness we share… a nearness that didn’t exist five short years ago.
Thanks, Mom and Dad. It’s been a blast. Now it’s time to hurry up and get that passport, Mom – we’ll keep our Guest Room ready and waiting for you. See you soon.
Love,
Jon
