Jan. 12 - The End of an Era

Today I learned that the pain of losing a friend is far worse when it happens to your own kid.

The neighbors across the street are moving out of state tonight. They have four kids - three boys and a girl - all of whom mesh incredibly well with my own children and the few other kids who live in our small neighborhood. It was especially nice for my daughter, since there were no other girls around to play with on a regular basis. Their arrival two years ago made her jump for joy that she finally had someone to call on. The two became almost sister-like, both in their affection for each other and the squabbles they had.

What followed in the next couple of years was something the likes of which I haven't seen since my own childhood - a bona fide neighborhood gang that harkened back to the days when the word "gang" didn't make people shudder. The boys ran between houses and shouted down the road at each other during endless games of Manhunt (glorified Hide and Seek, pretty much), while the girls made up songs and dances and drew with chalk on the street. They gathered together on driveways for impromptu after-parties during New Years Eve or the Fourth of July. Everyone from the six-year-old girl to the sophomore in high school played summer kickball games together, not stopping even when the sun had set and the ball could barely be seen.

In reading that, I wonder who's more bummed - the kids, or me.

But I know it's heartbreaking for them. It's always sad when a friend moves away; I saw a few of those back in my day. But when you see your kids go through the same heartbreak - when you hold your daughter as she sobs because her neighbor-sister won't call on her this weekend, and when your son mopes because there are no longer enough kids for Manhunt - it hurts a thousand times worse.

I know they'll be fine. I always was. But it's going to be a tough few days.