I’ve always known that one day my son Alex, his girlfriend Sarah, and their beautiful baby girl Freya would move out of our house and into a place of their own. I half-jokingly told them they were free to stay with Mimi and Pop forever, but I knew they would eventually want to leave our nest someday. That day came last Wednesday. And I am not okay.
Freya was born during the height of the pandemic, and in order to minimize her chances of being exposed to the virus, she and her parents hunkered down at our house, tucked safely away from society in the woods of Southern Boone County. As a result, most of Freya’s first fifteen months of life have been lived at our home. After I quit teaching in order to be a stay-at-home grandparent while Alex and Sarah continued with their college education and returned to the workforce, Freya and I spent almost every day together. It’s safe to say that Freya has become my favorite human being in the entire history of human beings.
Before Freya was born, I loved my wife and three kids as much as I thought it was possible to love anyone or anything. Then this adorable, smart, funny, and ornery little person came into my life and absolutely rocked my world.
I was there to see Freya’s first smile, hear her first laugh, and feel her first hug. I was there for her first steps, her first words, and her first adorable temper tantrums. I’ve been so blessed, and I know that not every grandparent is able to be there for all of those firsts.
In the days and weeks leading up to their move-out date, I focused on savoring every moment I had with Freya. Whether it was dancing in the living room, walking around outside, or playing with toys, our days were spent having fun and making memories. Our favorite activity has always been reading, and over the last few days at our house, Freya spent a lot of her time curled up in my lap following along to Goodnight Moon, I Believe in Bunnycorns, I Love You to the Moon and Back and other treasured books. The most deeply satisfying moments of my life have been spent reading and snuggling with my granddaughter—and all three of my children.
Last Wednesday was full of extreme highs and abysmal lows. Freya and I often walk to the bus stop at the end of our road to meet Truman and Tiana after school, and it occurred to me during Wednesday’s walk that it may be the last time we’d be able to do so. Until my dying day, I will always cherish the memory of the joy I saw on Freya’s face as she blissfully gazed at her Aunt T and Uncle Tru that day at the bus stop. I barely choked back the tears as we walked home together, while all three kids were happily oblivious to my breaking heart.
My heart was breaking, but it wasn’t broken yet.
It broke a little more that afternoon as I packed up Freya’s toys, clothes, and crib and loaded them into my truck. It broke even more on the drive to Columbia. More cracks developed as I carried Freya’s things into her new home. I had to pause for a moment and admit to Alex that I had been struggling to hold it together all day, and when he gave me a comforting hug, I finally lost it.
I lost it again the next day, my first day at home without Freya. I lost it again on Friday after telling Bethany how much I was hurting. I cried as hard that night as I have ever cried in my adult life. My breaking heart was officially a broken heart. I knew I would never be happy again. “She belongs here,” I told my wife between sobs, even though I knew that Freya belongs wherever her mom and dad are.
Bethany did her best to console me, but I was inconsolable. For fifteen months, I had a front row seat to the greatest show on earth—The Freya Show. Now the show has moved to a different town, and even though the rational part of me is happy for Alex and Sarah as they begin a new and exciting chapter of their lives, the emotional part of me is completely devastated. I know we’ll still get to see each other often, but life in the Naughton house will never be the same now that three of the seven people who have called this house “Home” have moved out all at once.
The silver lining of this new arrangement is having more time to focus on Truman and Tiana. They sacrificed a lot when they were forced to share their parents with a new grandbaby. And it wasn’t the first time they put their own needs behind the needs of another child. Six years ago, they had to share their parents and home with two of their cousins who lived with us for a year due to a family crisis. In both situations, Tru and T were selfless, compassionate, and patient with their new housemates. Now, with my focus returning to my own children, I am falling in love with them all over again. They truly are amazing young people.
Maybe that’s the way it will be with Freya. Every time I get to see her, I’ll have an opportunity to fall in love with her all over again. The same goes for Alex and Sarah. Perhaps that is the only way to heal a broken heart; by seizing those chances to fall in love every time they present themselves.
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