We have a grandfather deficit in our family. Really, I've always had one.
My mother's father died in World War II, long before I was born. Photos and stories about him have offered inspiration and life lessons. He was a doctor, a remarkable person, and a wonderful father to my mother. But a dead man is not a source of loving hugs or endearments. He couldn't spoil me on my birthdays. He wasn't there to take me on a special outing that gave me the feeling that, just for a moment, I was the center of someone else's world.
My father's father was very ill by the time I was born. He had several strokes that robbed him of his dexterity, ability to speak clearly, and sometimes even control over his bodily functions. By the time I was out of diapers, he was in them. And none to happy for it. He must have been frustrated and angry with his situation. He was not a happy man. I do remember sitting on his lap, he touching my arm with somewhat spastic pats. I remember his constant drooling and urine smell. Again, not really any story book grandfather moments.
No ring-side cheering for me at sports. No flowers and over-the-top praise for me at performances. No absolutely biased comparison of me above all others in the world.
I read the book Heidi over and over as a kid. I didn't realize until much later, that part of it's enchanting pull for me was the gruff-but-loving grandfather character. He instantly adored Heidi and cared for her in just the way she needed. It was something my heart really wanted but I never had.
I really wish I could say it was different for you.
But my father is almost entirely absent from your lives. He cares for you in his way and has given you some gifts. But I don't think he will ever remember your birthday, or show up to take you somewhere special. It is unlikely that he will ever know you well, or become a person to turn to during a difficult spell. Unfortunately, this was largely the case for me as his daughter. Other things are more important to him. Parenting was something he never had much time for. Harsh? Well, in the 26 years since my parents divorce, he has never stopped filing lawsuits against my mother. In the same period, he has called me on the phone less than a dozen times. Not exactly a solid track record.
And your Papa. Well, he is gone. He was the first and only person to "father" me in a way that I always wanted. He loved us all completely. And he was a wonderful grandfather to you and your cousins. So wonderful that he literally died to save one of you. And he would have done it for any one of you. He would have done it for me.
And just like my ideal, he was tough on the outside.
And marshmallow soft on the inside.
And more, he seemed to understand and love you, before you were even born.
Luckily, you have the best father I can imagine. Being his partner, seeing all he does for you, somewhat makes up for the lack of fathering and grandfathering that I've had. It was all worth it to get to the place I am now.
But I am selfish. And wish you had a present and loving grandpa too.
One of the kids in Lucy's class has a grandpa that comes nearly every week to help with reading, class preparation, and whatever else needs doing. This week had him cutting out paper books (tedious!) and shepherding boys through the changing room during our class visit to the school pool (wild!). And he seemed happy to do it. Happy to be there for his granddaughter. Showing oh so much love, merely by showing up.
I just want to say thank you Gary Suttenberg. Thank you Dick Young. Thank you Bob Keddington, Tom Tuite, Bill Bahles, and all the other committed grandpas I see loving on their grandkids out there. Bless you for doing that thing that no one else can do for them. Bless you for being that person that loves them no matter what. My kids may not have that but I'm forever grateful that they get a glimpse of it through you.
xo,
Margaret
