Speaker 1: Last week, my fifteen year old granddaughter came out to
Speaker 1: our trailer. We've done this for years and years with him,
Speaker 1: but for the first time, I realized she doesn't really
Speaker 1: need me anymore. And I so was not ready for
Speaker 1: how that felt. I'm more in Debrandski, this is life
Speaker 1: starts at retirement. Let's just talk about this. You know,
Speaker 1: every summer we bring our grandkids to the trailer for
Speaker 1: a few days, and as they've gotten older, we've always
Speaker 1: encouraged them to bring a friend along. We really wanted
Speaker 1: this to be a place where they loved coming even
Speaker 1: as they grew up. So Brianna, our fifteen year old granddaughter,
Speaker 1: and her friend came out last week and they had
Speaker 1: a wonderful time. They laughed, they whispered, they wandered off together,
Speaker 1: they planned things, they went to the pond. They lived
Speaker 1: in their little own world, exactly the way fifteen year
Speaker 1: old girls should. And I found myself sitting there watching
Speaker 1: them with a lump in my throat because I suddenly
Speaker 1: realized something for the first time, my granddaughter didn't really
Speaker 1: need Karama anymore. We didn't go to the pool together,
Speaker 1: we didn't play our usual games, we didn't have those
Speaker 1: long conversations we normally did. I just somehow quietly assumed
Speaker 1: that we'd always do the same things, not realizing that
Speaker 1: life moves on and moves on fast, you know. And
Speaker 1: I sat there watching the two teenage girls have the
Speaker 1: time of their lives, twenty feet apart from me, in
Speaker 1: a world though where I wasn't a part of it.
Speaker 1: And here's the thing, I'm genuinely happy watching her. She's
Speaker 1: becoming a confident, independent woman. She's finding her own place
Speaker 1: in the world, and that's everything that we want for
Speaker 1: our grandchildren. But I'd also be lying if I didn't
Speaker 1: say it really makes me a little bit sad too.
Speaker 1: And it's a strange kind of grief, though, I think,
Speaker 1: isn't it, Because it's the kind where really nobody did
Speaker 1: anything wrong, where nothing bad has happened. It's exactly what's
Speaker 1: supposed to happen. Kids grow up, they spread their wings,
Speaker 1: they need us less and less, and that's the way
Speaker 1: it should be. And yet I was sad because there's
Speaker 1: there's a version I guess of her that I used
Speaker 1: to know, the one that thought Grandma was the most
Speaker 1: fun person at the trailer and summer this year, it
Speaker 1: was gone, without a single dramatic minute, without a moment
Speaker 1: that I can think of. She just quietly became someone else,
Speaker 1: someone I'm getting to know all over again. And I
Speaker 1: think this is the part that's hard to explain. I'm
Speaker 1: not sad that she's growing up. I'm proud of it.
Speaker 1: I'm proud of her. I want her to have her
Speaker 1: own world, her own friends, her own plans that really
Speaker 1: don't include me as much. Sometimes as grandparents and then
Speaker 1: parents too, we don't realize that we're saying goodbye to
Speaker 1: one chapter while we're still living it. We think, or
Speaker 1: I thought we had more time still in that old
Speaker 1: chapter than I did. And then one summer at the trailer,
Speaker 1: it's just over, and I didn't see a warning. I'm
Speaker 1: sure they were there, but I certainly didn't see it.
Speaker 1: But now both things can be true at once. I
Speaker 1: can be happy for her, and I can miss her
Speaker 1: and be sad for me too. Neither one cancels out
Speaker 1: the other. I can be incredibly proud of the young
Speaker 1: woman she's becoming and still miss the little girl who
Speaker 1: thought Grandma was just wonderful. So those two feelings can
Speaker 1: still exist together. And here's though, what I keep coming
Speaker 1: back to. Our relationship isn't disappearing, it's just changing shape.
Speaker 1: The little girl who wanted to play dolphin school at
Speaker 1: the pool is become a young woman who, one day,
Speaker 1: I hope will want to sit across from me with
Speaker 1: a cup of coffee and actually tell me about her life,
Speaker 1: not because she feels obligated or because I ask one
Speaker 1: hundred questions, but because she wants to. And that's not
Speaker 1: the same relationship that we have now. So it might
Speaker 1: be the end of this part of our relationship, but
Speaker 1: it's just the next chapter starting before I was ready
Speaker 1: to close the last one. And I don't think it's
Speaker 1: just a gramma thing either. I think a lot of
Speaker 1: us parents, grandparents, anyone who's loved a kid as they
Speaker 1: grew up goes through this exact moment more than once,
Speaker 1: because nobody prepares you for how many smogabies are falling
Speaker 1: into raising or grandparenting a child. We're so focused on
Speaker 1: the big milestones that we don't notice we're saying goodbye
Speaker 1: to something every single year, every single month, all the time.
Speaker 1: And I think retirement now introduces us to that kind
Speaker 1: of emotion even more, like over and over and over again.
Speaker 1: And nobody really talks about it. People worry us about
Speaker 1: our finances. They tell us to stay active, They remind
Speaker 1: us to exercise, to volunteer, to find hobbies, all wonderful advice,
Speaker 1: But nobody also tells you that retirement and I guess
Speaker 1: aging is full of all of these little, quiet goodbyes.
Speaker 1: Not the dramatic goodbyes, just little ones like the last
Speaker 1: time your grandchild asks you to play a borgame, the
Speaker 1: last time they want you to push them on a
Speaker 1: swing who, the last sleepover where they still want Grandma
Speaker 1: to read a story. The last Christmas where everyone sleeps
Speaker 1: under one roof okay, the last family vacation before everybody's
Speaker 1: schedule becomes too busy. The last time maybe your adult
Speaker 1: child calls just because they need your help fixing something,
Speaker 1: because now they already know how to fix it. Oh
Speaker 1: my goodness. You rarely recognize these moments while you're living them.
Speaker 1: It's only afterward that you look back and realize, oh,
Speaker 1: that was the last time. And I think that's why
Speaker 1: they hurt so much, not because something has been taken away,
Speaker 1: but because you didn't realize you were saying goodbye. Retirement
Speaker 1: seems to magnify those moments. Maybe it's because we finally
Speaker 1: have time to notice them. When we're busy raising kids
Speaker 1: and working full time, life races past us, but retirement
Speaker 1: slows us down and we pay attention. We notice the
Speaker 1: traditions that slowly change, the grandchildren who suddenly seem taller
Speaker 1: every time they visit. It's really a strange kind of grief.
Speaker 1: There's no funeral, there's no tragedy. There's just love that's
Speaker 1: quietly changing shape. So today I'm just letting myself miss
Speaker 1: the little girl who thought Grandma was the most fun
Speaker 1: person in the world. Well, I get to know the
Speaker 1: young woman she's becoming. I'd love to know has anyone
Speaker 1: else felt this? How has your relation changed with your
Speaker 1: grandkids or even your own kids changed as they become teenagers?
Speaker 1: As they tell me in the comments I do read
Speaker 1: every one, I'm more integrad This is like start a retirement.
Speaker 1: I produce a retirement lifestyle video What's weak and subscribe
Speaker 1: if you want more honest conversations about this chapter of
Speaker 1: your life. Actually, what's like thanks ing your retirement? Remarking