It was wonderful to see my parents, but the visit left me with persistent doubts and worry. Leaving them for five months, without the option to visit, is more difficult than it has been in the past. My father is so very fragile and I am not sure he will be around in a month, a year, a week. My mother is less and less herself and each encounter is about loss for me.
During my recent visit, I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to fix their internet and organize their computer so that gmail and skype was easily accessible. I stressed that we needed to stay in touch regularly via email and skype. I even had them agree to skype me nightly at 9 PM Eastern time, or at least try to be on at that time. Perhaps I am more anxious tonight, because they were not online at 9 as expected. Of course, they may be out to dinner or watching a movie, but then again, they do not go out much, nor do they socialize alot (my mother especially). I could call and check, but I want them to get used to using skype and internet, because calling will not be an option when living in Ecuador. When we did our sabbatical two years ago, I had just had my old iMac delivered to their house, and my father was devoted to skyping quite regularly, and so I felt that I saw both parents quite often, albeit via a technological marvel, which is not the same as in person, but so much better than by phone or email. It was great for Maya to see her grandparents regularly, and for them to see her growing each day.
They adore Maya, of course they adore all their grandchildren, but they have an uncanny ability to make each child feel beloved and special. My father loves to practice violin with Maya, and will go through each note carefully with her, always generous with encouragement and praise; he is a true teacher. My mother is a bit in awe of Maya; who is kind and gentle and calm and always ready for a hug or a kiss.
I am feeling Maya's impending loss, and my own and my parent's losses too. My father went to a funeral while Maya and I were visiting, and with talking to my parents, I learned of friend after friend who had died. Leaving them the morning of our flight was agonizing, so I kept as busy as possible and rushed around with purpose and energy, to dispel the sense of loss swirling around me. How can I leave them? How can they leave me?
During my recent visit, I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to fix their internet and organize their computer so that gmail and skype was easily accessible. I stressed that we needed to stay in touch regularly via email and skype. I even had them agree to skype me nightly at 9 PM Eastern time, or at least try to be on at that time. Perhaps I am more anxious tonight, because they were not online at 9 as expected. Of course, they may be out to dinner or watching a movie, but then again, they do not go out much, nor do they socialize alot (my mother especially). I could call and check, but I want them to get used to using skype and internet, because calling will not be an option when living in Ecuador. When we did our sabbatical two years ago, I had just had my old iMac delivered to their house, and my father was devoted to skyping quite regularly, and so I felt that I saw both parents quite often, albeit via a technological marvel, which is not the same as in person, but so much better than by phone or email. It was great for Maya to see her grandparents regularly, and for them to see her growing each day.
They adore Maya, of course they adore all their grandchildren, but they have an uncanny ability to make each child feel beloved and special. My father loves to practice violin with Maya, and will go through each note carefully with her, always generous with encouragement and praise; he is a true teacher. My mother is a bit in awe of Maya; who is kind and gentle and calm and always ready for a hug or a kiss.
I am feeling Maya's impending loss, and my own and my parent's losses too. My father went to a funeral while Maya and I were visiting, and with talking to my parents, I learned of friend after friend who had died. Leaving them the morning of our flight was agonizing, so I kept as busy as possible and rushed around with purpose and energy, to dispel the sense of loss swirling around me. How can I leave them? How can they leave me?
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