When a friend moves away

The summer before I entered third grade, the family across the street did a house swap with a family from England. The British family included a boy just about my age. We spent pretty much every day together, that summer. As the day when they were to return to England drew near, I refused to believe they would leave. I just knew they would decide to stay for good. The father would get a great job offer and they wouldn't go. Something. Eventually, though, the time came. I went to the airport to see my friend off, and I remember watching him walk across the tarmac in the dark. I cried as he left -- the tears of a little boy who has just lost his best friend.

Jared has been taking swim lessons for nigh onto two years now and there's a girl in his class that has been there almost as long. They've become fast friends, so much so that they hug in the parking lot before class and walk into the building hand-in-hand. We've become friends with her parents too; her little sister is in Sara's class and their father and I have a good time chatting and joking in the pool with our younger ones. We've even had a bit of a holiday together, in adjoining rooms at a hotel downtown for a night. We were looking forward to going camping together and doing all those things families do together.

Last Sunday, however, Jared's little friend opened the door of their minivan and said "We're moving." I was confused -- they had just bought their house not too long ago and it seemed great. They had a swimming pool, a play structure, even an amazing outdoor kitchen. Then the mother broke the bad news: they're moving back to New York. He got a great job offer there and, being a consultant, she can work from anywhere. Her family is there, including the kids' cousins, as well as friends of both generations. Sure, they have friends and a life here, but more so there. The added support, along with the better job, made the move a no-brainer.

So now I'm that third grader again, hoping the job falls through or that they decide they like living here too much to leave or something. But really, I know this is what's best for them. I'm worried about Jared, though. I don't want him to suffer the way I did. When I was a kid, long distance calls were something only rich people made. We didn't have the internet or video conferencing or instant messaging. Now, we have free long distance on our celphones and through the internet. The kids can chat and e-mail and send videos back and forth. And we'll visit, of course.

But all of that won't prevent the pain of loss that he's already feeling. Last night, on the way to Costco, Jared asked if we could go to New York when she's there, and then asked when she would be coming back. Unfortunately, I really don't have a clue how to help him, other than with lots and lots of hugs. If anyone has any suggestions or advice, I'd certainly love to hear it.