The Bright Lights That Are Grandchildren

Copyright © 2019

by Ralph F. Couey

Late on a Wednesday night, I pulled alongside the curb at Honolulu International Airport, just outside baggage claim 29.  The door opened, and like foam coming out of a shaken can of soda, three gleeful, lovely, and precious grandchildren flooded into the vehicle.  They all had stories to tell and the vehicle, just moments before completely silent, became filled with those happy voices. 

Oh, yeah...their mom came along as well.

A human's later years can be times of trial and regret.  But grandchildren rekindle the joy of life, and light the days with a gentle, warm light.  Being a grandparent is different.  We're not involved in the day-to-day challenges of rearing them, especially if they live far away, as all of ours do.  But being around them, we remember the very important role we do have.  We love them without limits, to be sure.  But we are also that ready ear to listen to them.  We remember how important a pair of arms are to the proper hug, and how important the words, "We're so proud of you" can light up their faces.  

It was bad timing for me, in a way.  Three weeks ago, I caught a cold which became the flu (first time in 17 years), and morphed into pneumonia.  For the first few days, I wore a surgical mask around them to they wouldn't catch the persistent and stubborn bug with which I was struggling.  They will be here for about a month and we had a long list of things we wanted to do with them.  I hated being sick, more than I ever have, not just because of the bug but also the accompanying waves of exhaustion that kept me horizontal for most of the time.  

But that illness is receding, I'm regaining my strength and energy, and am excited to make up for lost time.  

They've been lovely.  I got lots of hugs every day, accompanied by their sweet voices hoping I'd feel better soon.  I know they've missed us as much as we've missed them.  We're coming up on the holiday, and have lots of things planned.  I want to be with them as much as my job commitments will allow.  I love them deeply, not just the three that are here in Hawai'i, but the two in Colorado and the three in Los Angeles.  But the years are passing and they are growing up too fast.  Time is ruthless and unforgiving, so every moment of every day becomes as precious as drops of liquid gold.  Old people like us know that if we miss a moment, it will never happen again.  Where our grandchildren are concerned, those moments become even more valuable.  

Our oldest is now 12.  It was just a month ago (or so it seems) that she was a baby in diapers.  In three-and-a-half years, just a minute or two to us, she'll be driving.  And before we have a chance to catch our breaths, she'll be headed off to college.  Her young brother will turn nine early next year, and that happens way too soon.  The youngest, maybe an hour ago, she was just learning to talk, and now she is fluent in two languages and saying wonderfully imaginative things.  The oldest plays both piano and violin and is superb at both.  The boy is showing incredible talent on the baseball field and a real love for the game.  The youngest, assertive at birth, still goes through life expecting everyone else to follow along.  They are wonderful beings, full of fun and laughter, and gentle love and compassion.  

Having them around again is like having fireworks in the house.  We will enjoy having them around but already I can sense the emptiness that will be ours when they leave.  But that's the price, isn't it?  We can't all live together anymore.  We are all in places we are required to be for various reasons, our separate lives diverging along different roads.  So we must maximize the time we have when we're together, squeezing every possible joy out of each moment.  We're not just enjoying a visit; we are making memories that will last forever, small jewell-like moments to be taken out and cherished at some lonely point in the future.

In every day there are joys and sorrows, things that we want to remember and others we would just as soon forget.  The days pass, turn into months and years, and what we know so well today will recede into the tunnel of memory.  But for me, the one forever, eternal thing in life that peaks well above anything else are those hugs and the little voice, "I love you Grampa."