Grandparent’s Day

 Several weeks ago our daughter told us that there was a Grandparent’s Day planned at Silas’ daycare whereby grandparents were invited to join their grandchild for a special lunch time together. Would we be interested in participating, she asked. Are you kidding? Of course we would. We immediately made plans to make the six hour drive down the night before, then show up at the event, after which we would be allowed to take him home for the weekend. Neither of us has been to St. Andrew’s Daycare. We’ve seen pictures of Silas doing various things there but we don’t know his teachers or any of the other kids in his class. We were thrilled at the prospect.

Yes…we didn’t think twice about making a six hour drive to spend thirty minutes eating lunch with our grandchild. Would it be easier if we lived closer? Yes. But just because something isn’t easy doesn’t mean you don’t do it.

Then, I get sick with whatever the hell it is that I have, and despite our best efforts, Pam now has some form of the same affliction. The result of this unhappy situation is that we will not be able to make it to Grandparent’s Day. Pam waited until yesterday to break the news. She explained the situation via text. I read the text while sitting in the sun of the patio at Hope Church. It was then that the strangest thing happened. All of a sudden I found myself fighting back tears. I mean, I was by myself on the patio, trying to figure out what was wrong. This is new territory for me. I’m not a cryer. I never cried when my kids were born. When my Mom passed away I didn’t shed a tear until six months later while on a treadmill at the Marriott Hotel on Michigan Avenue in Chicago.

Here’s what happened. As soon as I read Pam’s text a vision popped into my head. I saw a group of toddlers sitting on picnic blankets surrounded by grandparents on the green astroturf of St. Andrew’s play area…and off to the side there was Silas all alone. The image devastated me. What I didn’t know was that at that very moment Pam was having the same vision and was just as heartbroken as I was. Thankfully a few minutes later our daughter replied that she 100% understood and for us not to feel bad because Jon had decided he would meet Silas for lunch on that day so he wouldn't be alone. This news came as a tremendous relief to us both.

It wasn’t until later that I thought of how ridiculous we were being. Silas is only 15 months old. When he grows up he will have absolutely zero memory of a random lunch date in 2026. The fact that his grandparents weren’t there with him won’t even register in his consciousness. So, why did the thought of not being there for him bring such instant and deep despair? Honestly, I don’t know. It feels silly now that a day or so has passed. But as it was happening it was as real an emotion as I have ever felt, something close to a fear of letting him down.

The list of things over which I have no control is long and forbidding. Pam and I will have limited influence in Silas’ life. He’s just beginning, we are closer to the end than the beginning. But there are things over which I do have control. I can make sure that when there’s a special event—we are there. If he’s ever in a play or has a game, if there’s a party, if he is graduating from something—we will be there. You just can’t miss the occasion, the assembly, the celebration.

Or…grandparent’s day.