It all started in the waiting room of a Boston hospital where my daughter was giving birth to my granddaughter. Both sides of the family were represented, waiting for our lives to change. This was also the first time I felt a kind of competition: Who would become the more loved by a grandchild we all loved?
I have to admit I am guilty of this and embarrassed by it. I fight the feeling even though it does exist. The beauty of this is that our grandchild loves everyone equally, and we should take a lesson from her.
My wife and I live in Maine and our daughter lives in Massachusetts. This means that for the next nine years of our lives, we traveled down with the road warriors of Massachusetts through Route 95, the dreaded Route 1 south and beyond.
At a nice place in Melrose, we watched our grandchild grow from infant to baby to child. We took care of her when she was sick, when she took her first steps, and when she spoke and understood her first words.
One favorite memory is when I was holding her while she suffered through an illness that awaits all new people that exited the safety of their mother’s womb. Early in her young life, my granddaughter always kept her head lifted away from any shoulder in order to show her independence in life. Even today, she likes the concept that she is who she wants to be. Well, on that particular Monday afternoon she let her head fall on my shoulder and wrapped her arms around my neck. Life gave me something I did not deserve on that Monday afternoon.
My wife did the majority of the work during these years. All I did was the driving and making sure everyone was safe and, of course, loved. She made sure the atmosphere around our grandkid was exceptionally clean and well organized.
Of course, there were a couple of challenges during these times. These were in the form of two old cats my daughter had before she was married. These were ugly cats. My wife’s primary purpose in life was to keep these filthy animals from ever coming near our granddaughter.
Then came my grandson. The first time I held it was like holding a 2 x 4. He was totally stiff and had the kind of scream that could wake the dead. I remember many times just holding him in his stiff position and wishing I could go a bit deaf for at least a few hours.
My grandson, like my granddaughter, grew up to be beautiful, compassionate, and intelligent. I know it was because of the unlimited love my wife had for them, but I also hope it had something to do with me doing something right even though I have no clue as to what that would be.
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