Looking through albums, I stop on this photo, as I always do. It’s from a day when we were all at home in April, probably for my parents’ anniversary–kids, grandkids, in-laws–including three-month-old twins Sarah and Gina. I’m sure Josh, who’d just turned two, was getting lots of attention so he wouldn’t feel slighted because of his new sisters. And somehow during all that excitement and activity, Daniel, about three and a half, ended up in “Oompah’s” lap for a few quiet moments.
Never were grandkids more loved by their grandfather. For many years, these tiny shoes dangled from the mirror of his Pinto station wagon. They are still packed among my things. Though I’ve thought several times about sending them to their original owners, there’s something so sweet about keeping them together.
“April is the cruelest month,” T.S. Eliot wrote, and it’s true that it’s always pulled at my emotions. Sometimes I realize I’ve been staring into space for an hour, two hours, in wonder that April has robbed our family again. There is a shoe missing, the grandchild my father never knew.
Aaron, your cousins and your brother hold you in their hearts. We all do.
This is what I mean, Becky. Even though you have sad memories, there’s always the tenderness and warmth too. Balance. I’m glad to know you.
Thank you very much. It’s mutual.
It’s a bit late, but *big hug* Becky.
Thank you very much. I can always use a hug. =)