The Years Go Fast, and the Grandchildren Grow

The pull of family was stronger than the pull of years.

By Neil Solomon · 2 min read

Picture a couple named Edith and Robert who built a calm life in Asia. A bungalow, a garden, friends who drop by for tea. Their days are full and good. On Sundays they call home, and a small voice asks, "When are you coming?"

They smile, and then they go quiet after the call.

What people seem to describe

Two stories from Asia show the same feeling at different stages.

In Japan, I read about someone who spent a very long life there, close to six decades, and then chose to return home to be near grandchildren. The feeling is bittersweet. He loved the place. He still left. The pull of family was stronger than the pull of years.

In India, a couple from Yorkshire lived in a bungalow with a comfortable routine and a sense of ease. What they missed was their grandchildren. The mood is wistful. Nothing was wrong with the place. A piece of the picture was simply far away.

What I take from this is that how long you plan to stay matters as much as where. Early on, distance feels like a small cost. Later, it can feel larger, because the time left to see family is shorter and the visits mean more.

I do not think there is a wrong choice here. Some people stay and make the visits count. Some go back. Some split their time. But it helps to ask the question before the call makes it for you.

Edith says over tea, "I do not want to leave this house."

"Nor do I," Robert says. "But I do not want to miss the next five years either."

"Then maybe we do not choose just one."

The practical side matters too. Where family lives, how easy it is to travel, and how long the trip takes all change how heavy the distance feels. A place that is far on the map can feel near if the visits are regular. A place that is near on the map can feel far if no one goes. I would count the visits you really make, not the miles.