Today is what Richard's kids call a 'Grammie Day' - a one-on-one day with me. Since my energy does have it's limits, I find that having each child by themselves works better for me (and them) than having them all together. Is there anyone who couldn't stand a day of focused love - and the undivided attention of someone who thinks they are the warmth of the sun? (And I do feel that way about each one)
Today is my day with Brynn (who just turned seven this summer) and I was up early, anticipating our day. Days with Brynn are always fun, intense, and often filled with surprises.
Brynn is sweet, sensitive, kind, generous, funny, smart, beautiful, and protective (just to describe her a little). She's also emotionally deeper than most her age (or older). There is an intensity about her that is exhausting and energizing at the same time. Richard says she loves with her whole heart. She does. And I am humbled to be one of the fortunate recipients of that love.
Brynn is also blessed with a personality lacking filters (which I love). Richard is sometimes concerned that since Greg died, Brynn's directness could be difficult for me. There is no way to predict what she will say or ask. He says her questions are often more like an interrogation. True - but who said that's bad? I love her honesty and directness.
Were there times today that I had to fight hard to hold back tears. You bet there were. We had some honest and interesting conversations and I wouldn't change that for anything. For instance...
We were downstairs in my workroom, making jewelry and she saw the oxygen tube coming out of the wall.
"How did that get in the wall, Grammie," she asked.
"Uncle Greg did that for me. The tube goes into the wall here, then straight upstairs between the walls, and out of the wall upstairs by the oxygen machine. When I come downstairs, Michael switches the tubes on the machine from the upstairs tube to the downstairs tube so that I can have oxygen downstairs when I need it."
"Don't say his name", she instructed me. "Call him 'you know' or something, but not his name."
I was surprised. "Why not?" I asked. Brynn loved her Uncle Greg and was probably closer to him than any of other his nieces or nephews.
"You don't say the name of people who are d-e-a-d," she declared.
"Sure you do," I said. Your daddy talks about his father sometimes and he died quite a while ago.
"Never," she said - and shook her head.
I didn't want to upset her, so I told her, "If you don't want to say his name right now, that's okay. I'll respect that and give you a wink and a smile instead of his name if it comes up - but he is my child and I will always say his name - with love."
She looked angry - I thought maybe with me?
"This is a very bad word and I'm not allowed to say it, but if he didn't take those s-h-i-t drugs, he'd still be here,"
I made no comment about the word - not important in this conversation - and a grandmother can ignore what a parent might not. "I think you are absolutely correct, Brynn. I will always love him, but I'm angry, too."
"Why did he take them, Grammie? How did he start?"
"I wish I knew, Brynn. I think it started with something the doctor gave him for pain that would have been okay to take for a couple weeks, but not for the eight years that he took it - but I don't really know. I wish I understood. I know that he loved you."
"I loved him, too. You know that giant purple stuffed animal that he gave me? I sleep with it every night."
I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close. "I love you, Brynn. I'm so sorry you lost your uncle."
"I love you, too, Grammie."
Not a tear did I shed today - not one. If Brynn thought she made me sad, she'd feel awful. There will be times that I might cry in front of her, but not today - not when she was so open. I didn't want to do anything to close her up. No wonder I love this child so much. She is one of a kind.
Thanks, Richard and Julie, for lending me your precious child today.
Today is my day with Brynn (who just turned seven this summer) and I was up early, anticipating our day. Days with Brynn are always fun, intense, and often filled with surprises.
Brynn is sweet, sensitive, kind, generous, funny, smart, beautiful, and protective (just to describe her a little). She's also emotionally deeper than most her age (or older). There is an intensity about her that is exhausting and energizing at the same time. Richard says she loves with her whole heart. She does. And I am humbled to be one of the fortunate recipients of that love.
Brynn is also blessed with a personality lacking filters (which I love). Richard is sometimes concerned that since Greg died, Brynn's directness could be difficult for me. There is no way to predict what she will say or ask. He says her questions are often more like an interrogation. True - but who said that's bad? I love her honesty and directness.
Were there times today that I had to fight hard to hold back tears. You bet there were. We had some honest and interesting conversations and I wouldn't change that for anything. For instance...
We were downstairs in my workroom, making jewelry and she saw the oxygen tube coming out of the wall.
"How did that get in the wall, Grammie," she asked.
"Uncle Greg did that for me. The tube goes into the wall here, then straight upstairs between the walls, and out of the wall upstairs by the oxygen machine. When I come downstairs, Michael switches the tubes on the machine from the upstairs tube to the downstairs tube so that I can have oxygen downstairs when I need it."
"Don't say his name", she instructed me. "Call him 'you know' or something, but not his name."
I was surprised. "Why not?" I asked. Brynn loved her Uncle Greg and was probably closer to him than any of other his nieces or nephews.
"You don't say the name of people who are d-e-a-d," she declared.
"Sure you do," I said. Your daddy talks about his father sometimes and he died quite a while ago.
"Never," she said - and shook her head.
I didn't want to upset her, so I told her, "If you don't want to say his name right now, that's okay. I'll respect that and give you a wink and a smile instead of his name if it comes up - but he is my child and I will always say his name - with love."
She looked angry - I thought maybe with me?
"This is a very bad word and I'm not allowed to say it, but if he didn't take those s-h-i-t drugs, he'd still be here,"
I made no comment about the word - not important in this conversation - and a grandmother can ignore what a parent might not. "I think you are absolutely correct, Brynn. I will always love him, but I'm angry, too."
"Why did he take them, Grammie? How did he start?"
"I wish I knew, Brynn. I think it started with something the doctor gave him for pain that would have been okay to take for a couple weeks, but not for the eight years that he took it - but I don't really know. I wish I understood. I know that he loved you."
"I loved him, too. You know that giant purple stuffed animal that he gave me? I sleep with it every night."
I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close. "I love you, Brynn. I'm so sorry you lost your uncle."
"I love you, too, Grammie."
Not a tear did I shed today - not one. If Brynn thought she made me sad, she'd feel awful. There will be times that I might cry in front of her, but not today - not when she was so open. I didn't want to do anything to close her up. No wonder I love this child so much. She is one of a kind.
Thanks, Richard and Julie, for lending me your precious child today.
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