When absentdaughter flew off to New Zealand at the tender age of 17, ostensibly for a three-month visit, I knew that she would never return to the UK. I flew out to celebrate her wedding and was there when my first grandson was born. She flew to England with him to meet his great grandmothers, both of whom are now dead. I wasn't there during her divorce, for the births of the second, third and fourth children nor her new marriage, although we were always in touch and very close, apart from geographically. I visited for three months when the first two grandchildren were three and two years old. I didn't meet the second two until they were two and three when absentdaughter, son-in-law and the two younger ones came to England. I was there when number five was born.
We remained in constant loving touch throughout these hard separate years and grew ever closer. So close that we simultaneously developed a technique for goodbyes at the airport because we both found them so agonisingly painful and wanted to spare each other. Of course, it never really worked and I have sobbed my way from Nelson to Auckland and sniffed sadly in the international departure lounge too many times to count.
Now, it isn't "there" but "here" because I emigrated to New Zealand three years ago in plenty of time for the birth of number six. Our geographical separation drove no barriers between absentdaughter, son-in-law and grandchildren and me. Rather, they fired our determination to be together as much as possible – and we are!