Lately, every conversation with my parents feels strained. There’s this invisible weight between us, especially when their upcoming move comes up. I understand why they want to do it—they’re chasing the retirement they’ve always dreamed of. But understanding it doesn’t mean it hurts any less.
My parents have always been the bedrock of our family. They worked tirelessly to give us a good life, and even after we became adults, they were still there—steady, supportive, and selfless. When I became a mom, they stepped up in every way imaginable. I can’t count how many times my mom would call and say, “Bring the kids over, I’ll take care of them,” or, “Go take a nap—I’ll handle things.”
They were always around. Reliable. Loving. And never once asked for anything in return.
But now, they’re leaving.
They’re packing up and moving across the ocean to “finally live for themselves.” They want to travel, slow down, sip wine in the sun, and explore the world they’ve always wanted to see. And as much as I respect that dream, I can’t help but feel like they’re walking away when I need them the most.
My youngest kids are still so little—just 7 and 5. My husband Dan and I both work full-time, and with no affordable childcare lined up, their absence feels like a gaping hole in our lives. I haven’t even told the kids yet. How do you explain to a child that the grandparents they adore won’t be there for school plays or bedtime stories anymore?
I know my parents love us. I don’t doubt that. But this decision… it feels like they’re choosing themselves over us. And that stings.
The tension has only grown in the past few weeks. One night, after dinner, I sat in the living room with Dan, both of us quietly processing everything. I finally said, “I just can’t believe they’re really going. What are we supposed to do without them?”
Dan, ever the calm voice of reason, replied gently, “They’ve always been there for us. Maybe they’re just choosing themselves now because they finally can. Maybe they deserve that.”
I bristled. “So I’m being selfish?”
“No,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “You’re hurt. And that’s valid. But maybe it’s also time for us to find our own way—hard as that might be.”
His words stayed with me. Maybe I had leaned on my parents more than I realized. It wasn’t intentional—I just got used to them always being there. The thought of them not being around made everything seem overwhelming.
Eventually, we had some difficult, tearful conversations with my parents. They listened. We listened. And slowly, we found a middle ground. They helped us brainstorm new routines, promised to visit when they could, and reminded us that distance doesn’t mean absence.
Over the following months, Dan and I made adjustments. We reworked our schedules, found backup childcare, leaned more on friends and our community. It wasn’t seamless, but we started finding a rhythm.
Then, one day, my mom called. Her voice was gentle but clear.
“I know this has been hard for you,” she said. “But this move doesn’t mean we love you any less. We just want to enjoy the time we have left in a way that fills us up again.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I know,” I said. “It’s just… letting go is hard. But I get it now.”
A year has passed since they moved to Europe. I still miss them every day. But I’ve come to understand that their decision wasn’t rejection—it was an act of self-love. And in their courage to follow their dreams, they’ve unknowingly given me permission to chase mine too.
Sometimes we hold so tightly to the people we love that we forget they’re individuals with their own hopes and needs. It’s okay to ask for help, but it’s also okay to stand on your own. My parents taught me that—first by supporting me endlessly, and later, by stepping away and trusting me to fly on my own.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed or let down, know this: letting go doesn’t mean letting go of love. It just means growing in a new direction.
If you’ve been through something similar, I’d love to hear your story. And if you think this message might help someone else, feel free to share it. We’re all just trying to figure this out, one honest moment at a time.