Thankfully it doesn’t happen often, but it’s not easy to watch when it does.
I’m talking about watching my kids line up in the garage to wave goodbye to their grandparents who are headed back to Utah.
Our two oldest children are old enough to remember what it was like living close to family which we did for a year before moving back to Seattle. The two youngest children assume all grandparents live a thousand miles away and getting to see them is something that happens twice a year.
The kids count down the number of days to their next visit as if it were a more important occasion than Christmas, which of course, it is. When their grandparents are in town, the kids do everything they can to coax a few extra days out of them. Sometimes it works.
When we drop my father off at the airport after a short visit, the kids are a wreck for hours. They love when he visits, but the goodbyes are painful. As a father, those are difficult tears to wipe away.
Tonight the goodbyes played out to a backdrop of cold rain falling against an angry sky. My in-laws said their goodbyes before slowing backing down our driveway in their new Prius.
I stood back and wondered how long till the rain turned to snow and those energetic waves turned to tears.