20 glorious months

A colleague at work recently had a death in his close family, his wife’s mother.  We were talking about the effect this is having on his children since they were very close to their grandmother. 

I have had a chequered relationship with my grandchildren.  Their parents cut us off after we moved to Australia, when the oldest was only a toddler and the youngest wasn’t even born.  Two years ago my son opened communication again and moved his wife and the boys to Brisbane.  When they came here the boys were 2 and 5.  We had 20 wonderful months with them until their parents once again decided to cut us off, and moved the boys back to NZ.  We weren’t told they were going, so were not able to even say goodbye. 

It’s been hard enough to deal with my own grief over the breakdown of this very special relationship, but after talking to my work colleague I looked at it through child eyes.  It must have been so hard for those little boys each time they have been moved.

Before they came to Australia they had already relocated within NZ three times.  Each time they had to build new friendships and acclimatise to a new environment, and they didn’t had the continuous relationships with members of either family that are essential for a balanced childhood.  

When they moved to Brisbane the older boy was enrolled in school and the younger in day care.  Again they developed friendships, as well as building their relationship with us.  20 glorious months, the most stability they had known in their short lives.

Their parents’ selfish decision to move them yet again has meant they have had to start new again – new home, new school, new friends, rebuilding relationships with people they hadn’t seen in two years.  We will never know the reason their parents gave them for moving or why they can no longer see Nan and Pop and others in Australia who love them dearly.

During most of their time in Brisbane they didn’t hear from their other grandmother, because she and their mother weren’t talking.  How sad that children have to be the meat in that sort of sandwich.  My disappointment is with their parents, and I see no reason why the boys should suffer because of that.  I have chosen to keep the relationship with the boys alive, so I write to them regularly and send photos and books and toys.  I know one day I will see them again – it may be many years in the future – but I want them to know that they will always be very special to us.

Life is short.  All too often those closest to us leave a huge hole when they die, and we have to adjust to life without them.  We can’t avoid those situations, but we can and should avoid situations which are within our control.  Why do we inflict a similar pain on our children unnecessarily through separation, simply because we adults can’t see eye to eye?