Things Change, But Not Really

I left Arizona in March and my daughter, Vanessa, stayed behind. Just this past weekend she came to visit for the first time. That six-month period was our first separation. At the age of 24, I guess it was probably time for Vanessa, but I'm not sure there's ever a right time for a parent.

The time apart was pure agony for me. I realized when I picked her up at the airport why. Somewhere in the back of my head I was afraid of losing her. I can remember having the same feelings when my son left me for the Marines at 4:30 a.m. one morning years ago.

The minute Vanessa got in the car I realized I hadn't lost a thing. Everything felt the same, and the months fell away in an instant.

I think that people resist change primarily because they are afraid of loss. What could be lost varies depending on the individual and their circumstances. The greater the value of what is at risk, the greater the resistance to change becomes. For me, the loss of my child, on any level, was really tough and frankly I'm surprised I finally left Arizona.

Because of the heat, I was always miserable six months out of the year in that state. I know others who love the heat, but I actually suffered from Seasonal Affective Disorder, which usually occurs in cold, harsh winter climates like the Northeast. It was ultimately that dissatisfaction with the weather that drove me back to California, my home state.

But really, was the heat enough of a problem for me to give up regular contact with my only daughter? Apparently, it was. Anyone who has read my posts regularly knows I believe in the mysterious workings of the Universe and so I find myself wondering if the Universe was looking out for me or both of us. Vanessa has had to deal with her car being melted by a car that caught on fire while parked next to hers, moving from her own apartment into a house shared with three other young women and finally losing a job and starting a new one. Perhaps, she was meant to work through these things on her own.

Don't get me wrong. We talk. We talk all the time. But it's not the same as having your family around to hang out with, collect hugs from when needed or simply give you the assurance that you're not alone.

I miss her again already and hope that someday we'll be in at least the same state. However, one thing I know now that I didn't realize over the past six months - Things change, but not really.