There are times when I hate being so far away from my grandchildren. My oldest granddaughter was hurt at her soccer game tonight and I had to hear about it over the phone. Then I had to wait anxiously to find out if she had a concussion or not. I know it isn’t my fault that I live in Oklahoma and she lives in Vermont, but I still feel guilty. Guilty that I’m not helping my daughter cope with a crisis. Guilty that I’m not comforting my granddaughter. Guilty that I obviously passed on the “accident waiting to happen” gene.
Being a long-distance Nana takes some effort and sometimes I get so busy that I really mess up. I forget about dance recitals or basketball games or big tests or even birthdays. I don’t write often enough and I certainly don’t spend enough time talking on the phone. I find myself searching for conversation topics now that all of my grandchildren are past the “cartoons, super heroes, baby animals” stage. I can’t talk about a lot of their activities because I’m not there to participate or even watch.
Christmas is approaching and I don’t know what any of my grandchildren want. They haven’t made a list or expressed any burning desire for a particular thing. I find myself thinking that if I was around them more I wouldn’t need a list. I wouldn’t have to wonder what they want.
Life is hard sometimes.