Almost Over
Yesterday evening, as I sat side-by-side with my grandson at the island in our kitchen, eating dinner, he put his seven-year-old hand on my shoulder and said, “Just two guys eating dinner.” There was a pause. Then he said, “My mom would be happy.” I agreed. We finished our dinner. Hot dogs. Then we packed our bags to head over to a friend’s house. There was music for me, and the grandchildren of the friend for my grandson. We both had full evenings. Me with my friends. Him with his.
It was a nice way to conclude our Saturday together. It was less jam packed with activities than our Friday, but we had fun. We chilled in the morning. Me with my coffee, him with his chocolate milk. We watched kids films together. In the afternoon, we slathered on the sunscreen and headed out to the pool. His uncle joined us and made a whirlpool for him by walking fast around the edge. I shot water at him through the noodle. He put his face in the water without holding his nose. We laughed. We splashed. There was music.
Today the grandson heads home, and the house will go back to being an old man’s quiet refuge. But I’m already planning for the next adventure, and the grandchildren of my friend are anxious to have him back. All the children hugged one another as they parted ways last night and it felt good to see. I hugged my friends as well. The sad note, of course, is the missing grandmother. But it’s all part of the music of the spheres and he never knew her. So, that’s my burden. I just figure it means my role is to the give the little grandson two people’s worth of love.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale