Hard truths for boomers who think moving closer to their adult children will fix the relationship—it usually makes it worse

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard some version of this: “If we lived closer, we’d be closer.”

It’s usually said with a hopeful tone, sometimes with a little edge or with tears.

A few months ago, I was volunteering at a local farmers’ market when an older woman struck up a conversation while we stacked produce.

She told me her daughter had moved two states away, and she was considering following her.

“I don’t want to lose her,” she said. “If I’m nearby, she’ll remember I’m here.”

I understood the longing, but my stomach tightened, because I’ve watched this exact plan backfire more times than it works.

Moving closer can be a beautiful choice when the relationship is already solid and boundaries are clear.

But when the relationship is strained, distant, awkward, or quietly resentful, proximity magnifies it.

Let’s talk about the hard truths, just to name what tends to happen when “moving closer” becomes a substitute for doing the emotional work.

The fantasy of proximity

There’s a particular kind of story we tell ourselves when we’re lonely, worried, or feeling left behind:

• If I’m close, we’ll have Sunday dinners.
• If I’m close, I’ll be included.
• If I’m close, we’ll finally talk more.
• If I’m close, my kid will soften.

It makes sense.

In every other area of life, closeness helps.

You sit near someone at a dinner party, you talk more; you move closer to work, your commute improves.

However, relationships aren’t commutes.

If emotional closeness isn’t there, physical closeness can feel like pressure.

Pressure rarely creates warmth as it creates distance, defensiveness, and sometimes a kind of low-grade dread.

Here’s the hard truth: Your adult child is not a destination you can relocate to.

They’re a person with a nervous system, a history with you, and an adult life that probably took them years to build.

Closeness exposes heal old wounds

If your relationship has unresolved pain, moving closer is like turning up the volume.

Maybe your adult child still feels criticized, controlled, compared to a sibling, or emotionally unseen; maybe you still feel unappreciated, taken for granted, or punished for “trying your best.”

Those feelings don’t disappear when you share a zip code.

They show up in the small moments:

• The unreturned texts.
• The last-minute cancellations.
• The tension when you “drop by.”
• The way you interpret their busyness as rejection.
• The way they interpret your presence as obligation.

People sometimes tell me, “But I’m not trying to smother them,” and I believe them!

Yet, impact beats intent in close relationships.

If your adult child experiences your move as an escalation, it won’t matter that your intention was love.

Autonomy is the core task of adulthood

Adult children need space to be adults.

That sounds obvious, but it’s emotionally hard for a lot of parents, especially parents who built their identity around caretaking, sacrifice, and “family first.”

When your child is young, closeness is part of the job; when your child is grown, closeness has to be chosen.

That’s a different thing.

A lot of adult children want distance because distance is how they finally learned to breathe.

If your child moved away and thrived, that tells you something: The space helped them develop their own voice.

If you move close without being invited into their adult life, you’re accidentally communicating, “I still get to define what family looks like.”

That’s the exact message many adult children spend their twenties and thirties trying to unlearn.

You can’t buy access to their life

I used to work as a financial analyst, and one thing numbers taught me is this: you can invest heavily in something and still not get the return you wanted.

Real estate is a classic example, and so is relational “investment” that comes with an unspoken invoice.

Some parents move closer and quietly expect access in return, such as more dinners, more holidays, more grandkid time, and more proof that they matter.

However, your adult child didn’t sign that contract.

They might not even know it exists until they feel the guilt drip into every interaction:

• “After all we did, you can’t make time?”
• “I moved my whole life for you.”
• “I don’t know why you’re keeping me at arm’s length.”

That’s the hard truth: If your move creates a sense of debt, it will poison the relationship.

Love that comes with a receipt feels like leverage.

Grandkids are not relationship glue

This one is tender, so I’m going to be careful: A lot of people dream of being close to grandkids.

That’s normal as it can be one of life’s sweetest joys, but grandkids cannot be the bridge you use to avoid repairing your relationship with your adult child.

If your main motivation is the kids, your adult child will feel it.

They may worry you’ll override their parenting, fear you’ll try to become a third parent, or feel like a gatekeeper in their own family.

If there’s already conflict, the presence of grandkids raises the stakes and intensifies power struggles fast.

You don’t want your relationship with your adult child to become a constant negotiation about access to children.

That’s a recipe for resentment on both sides.

The relationship you want requires emotional work

If your adult child feels distant, your first move should be emotional.

That might mean asking questions you’ve avoided:

• What do you need from me that you’re not getting?
• Is there something I did that still hurts?
• What boundaries would help you feel more comfortable?
• What kind of relationship feels realistic to you right now?

A lot of parents avoid these questions because they’re scared of the answers, or because they genuinely believe, “I did my best, so why are we still talking about this?”

Here’s the hard truth: “I did my best” can be true, and it still might not have met your child’s needs.

If you want closeness now, you have to be willing to listen without defending yourself.

That means fewer speeches and more curiosity, and fewer explanations and more accountability.

Less “That’s not how I remember it” and more “Tell me how it felt for you.”

What to do instead if you’re craving closeness

If you’re reading this and thinking, “Okay, but I’m lonely,” I get it.

Loneliness makes the mind grab for solutions that feel immediate, but there are smarter, kinder ways to move toward connection.

Start by building a life that isn’t dependent on your child’s availability.

I’m vegan, and I can tell you from experience that community often forms around the smallest shared thing, like swapping recipes or talking to the same familiar faces each weekend at a market.

Your adult child can feel the difference between “I’d love to see you” and “I need you to feel okay.”

One is an invitation, while the other is a burden.

Afterwards, practice contact that doesn’t demand intensity.

“I’ll be in your area next month. If you’re up for coffee, I’d love that. If not, no pressure.”

That last part matters—no pressure has to be real—because the moment your child senses that your emotional stability depends on their response, their nervous system will push back.

The hardest truth and the most freeing one

The hardest truth is that you can’t make your adult child want closeness, location-hack your way into intimacy, nor recreate the family rhythm you miss just by showing up more.

However, here’s the freeing truth: You can become the kind of parent your adult child feels safer being close to.

It’s about emotional maturity, respecting boundaries, letting “No” be an answer, owning your part without demanding immediate forgiveness, and staying warm even when you’re not getting the response you hoped for.

If you’re considering a move, ask yourself one honest question: Am I moving toward my child, or am I moving away from my own discomfort?

If it’s the second, the new address won’t fix it but the right inner work might.

Ironically, when you stop trying to force closeness, you often create the conditions where closeness can finally grow.