We Need Grandparents, Not Snowbirds and Globetrotters

My grandmother on my mother’s side died when I was very young, and I only met my father’s mother once. Like most children, I never got to experience that close and special relationship with a grandparent as a child.

I listen to how fondly my wife talks about growing up in the same house as her grandmother, reminiscing about her kind-hearted nature while displaying a deep appreciation for their bond, and it produces a sort of sweet sadness in me.

As I’ve passed the age of 40, I’ve given a lot of thought to how I want to live the rest of my life, especially now that my son is all grown up.

Like many of you, I daydream about moving across the country for better weather or a relaxed lifestyle, but I wonder if our collective ambition to chase late-adulthood independence is a disastrous choice that will rob our grandchildren of a unique relationship.

What good am I to anyone far away, “living my best life”?

I Want To Get Away, But Should I?

As an avid traveler, I’ve been quite taken with the idea of living abroad, and YouTube is filled with testimonials and tutorials detailing how to make that leap overseas. It’s an entire genre of content that caters to a growing audience of consumers who are no longer interested in being Florida snowbirds; they want to buy a home in Panama or a condo in Thailand.

Same.

Sometimes it’s a travel agent explaining what they should expect living in a given foreign country, but most are people who’ve made that drastic change themselves by moving abroad. They’re always eager to candidly tell you all about it.

I eat it up.

One video that comes to mind is of a retired, divorced man who chose to move to Thailand on his own. Although he attempts to tell you about the blissful differences, he can’t hide his struggle with persistent loneliness.

There was a couple I found who retired early and decided to buy a beachfront house in Panama. They were very forthcoming about the pros and cons of living in Panama as expats, but I later found a video hinting that they were leaving Panama.

The teaser thumbnail caption suggests that the reason for their departure from Panama was due to something terribly wrong with the country, but that wasn’t the case.

Way simpler.

Despite them having an economic advantage with the American dollar and witnessing crashing waves 24/7 outside their front door, they were moving back to the United States because they missed their family.

You can only look at waves and stunning vistas for so long before you realize you’re dying to share them with more people.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard people say that they will start doing all the fun things when they can finally retire. Ridiculous, honestly.

The rhetorical power in these words frames us as spending our entire adult lives on life support until the day we can afford to not work anymore. Then it’s finally our time to begin “living.”

Reject this.

Live, Laugh, Love (Now)

We’ve told senior citizens that when they’re 65, they’ll finally get to do all the things they wanted to do at 25. But life is more than the stuff you get to do or the places you can brag about visiting. If everything is about you, then where is there space for anyone else in your life?

The conversations with my wife about moving abroad stopped when I considered that one day my son might have children. It’s pretty likely, after all. I don’t want to be in Algeria managing a property when that happens.

Considering how much I love my son, would I want to spend my last years of life away from my grandchild just so I can feel good about spending less money on housing in a less developed country?

The closest person I’ve ever had to a grandparent was my grand-aunt, and because she lived states away, I didn’t get to see her often. Even since her passing, she means a lot to me and sparks light in my life that will never go out.

Maybe we have it all wrong. Maybe when we retire, it becomes an opportunity to spend even more time with the people we love, not less.

I don’t want to get away.

When I became a father, my objective was not to be like my father, but to instead be present in my son’s life. I’d show my love for him by voluntarily sacrificing my wants for his needs.

Well, I believe, in my later years, it’ll be a time to provide my grandchild with a relationship I was deprived of by sacrificing that illusion of paradise elsewhere to uphold an irreplaceable bond with them.

That sounds like a sacrifice worth making.