When I asked my parents if they wanted to come along on a trip to France, Denmark, and Norway with my teenage son and me, I was sort of joking. So, Mom surprised me by texting back within seconds: “YES!”
The original purpose of the trip was to escort my 15-year-old to a Boy Scout Jamboree. When I found a deal on a flight to Paris, I expanded it to a two-week European tour.
Of course, including my parents, who are in their mid-70s, changed our trip. I was concerned that my father’s mobility challenges would dampen our travel experience. After numerous back surgeries, he deals with chronic pain and uses a rolling walker.
It also made planning much more work. Soon, I felt like I was putting together two separate trips: low-walking itineraries in the middle of the day, followed by frenetic evening outings for my son and me to catch up on what we’d missed. And finding buildings with elevators in Paris, Copenhagen, and Oslo was not easy!
But all the extra work was worth it when I saw how the two-week trip deepened my son’s relationship with his grandparents and helped us connect to our roots.
Throughout the trip, my son really stepped up to look out for his grandparents
Carrie Kirby
As our trip got off to a rough start in Paris, I worried I’d made a mistake. My son and I planned to meet my parents as soon as they cleared customs, but our train was late.
While we separately searched for the Uber pickup area, Mom struggled to push Dad in an airport wheelchair and handle both their suitcases.
Later that day, we took a bus a few blocks to the Jardin du Luxembourg. It took so long in the summer heat that by the time we got to the park, Dad wanted to go back to the apartment to rest.
After we settled them on their balcony with a view of the Eiffel Tower, my son and I stayed out til midnight, hitting museums that stay open later in the summer.
As we traveled by train to Copenhagen, then by ferry to Oslo, something magical happened before my eyes. My son, always a caring kid, became his grandfather’s advocate and aide.
When it was time to get out of a taxi or off a train, my son would have Dad’s walker unfolded and waiting in the perfect spot. When we stopped for groceries, my son reminded me that Grampy likes pasta.
My son also looked out for my mother. In Copenhagen, as Dad crept along the long block from the subway stop to the royal palace with Mom at his side, she urged us to leave them both behind.
Instead, my son insisted on staying back with Dad so Mom could catch the changing of the guard. He reminded her that she was the one in the family with the most Danish heritage.
We were able to connect with Dad’s Norwegian heritage like never before, too
Carrie Kirby
On a previous trip, my parents and I, along with my husband and son, had taken a cruise up the coast of Norway. We saw beautiful landscapes, but our time on land had been limited.
We’d sailed past my great-grandparents’ home region in the early hours of the morning, and Dad had slept through it. This time, after connecting with Norwegian relatives, I booked us a rental house where my great-grandmother grew up.
Carrie Kirby
Staying in her tiny village on a northern fjord helped us feel closer than ever to our Norwegian heritage. We even met Dad’s second cousin Agnar, who took us to the house where my great-grandfather grew up.
Looking down on the fjord from a rock cliff near the house, Dad finally stood on the homestead he’d heard his grandfather speak of.
Connecting meaningfully with Norwegian relatives and places with deep family significance was unforgettable for all of us — and Agnar even gave my son a knife with a hand-carved handle for the Jamboree.
This once-in-a-lifetime trip made all of the struggles and worries well worth it
Carrie Kirby
By the time it was time to drop my son off with his Boy Scout group, we had all traveled over 2,000 miles together — by car, train, boat, bus, and plane.
There were fraught moments: We nearly missed multiple trains, and at one point, I lost my parents in an elevator. (They didn’t know what button to press to get to the ground floor and kept riding up and down.)
But all the extra effort was more than worthwhile. Dad grew up hearing stories about the “Old Country,” and always imagined he would get there someday.
When I saw how difficult Dad’s chronic pain made the voyage, I understood why Mom was on board so quickly. For this dream trip, it was now or never.
My son has a lifetime of travel ahead of him — but he will never get another opportunity to see the Old Country with his grandfather.