Today, I had a visit with my therapist again. I can count on one hand the number of visits I have left with her before she ends her time here. We talked about my upcoming trip to Phoenix and the Grand Canyon with my parents and Chris, and my thoughts around it.

I explained to her that my parents generally don’t take vacations. It’s not that they can’t afford it; they certainly can, but my dad is a homebody and generally doesn’t like to go anywhere because he likes being in familiar areas and thinks everything is a rip off or too expensive, and my mom is scared of the world and won’t go anywhere unless someone else suggests it to her first and then guides her around there (my dad won’t do this). So I told my therapist that unless I book, plan, and go with them on any “vacations,” the vacation will never happen for them.

She responds and says how mature that is on my part. She thinks it’s amazing I recognize this fact about my parents, but want to enhance their lives by planning these trips and then even going along with them, as she can imagine most kids would NOT want to do this, and would merely think, “eh, they’re miserable,” and let their parents continue on in their misery. They are who they are. I think I am getting too much credit for this.

While traveling with my parents is certainly not the easiest thing to do, I’m willing to do this because I’d like us to have shared, happy experiences, and I want them to see that there is more to life than all the work and pain and suffering they’ve had to go through. In most cases, the most rewarding things in life are not the easiest things to do.

The sad part about this trip is that we were supposed to have taken it this time last year with Ed. I guess this time, Chris and Bart will have to go in his place.