More of the Letting Go
Jun. 8th, 2018 07:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thisnewdayA couple of nights ago, the grandson called and asked me to drop him off at a friend's house in the Eastwood neighborhood where we used to live.
It was someone he'd been playing basketball with and his mom was going to bring him home, after she got out of work, so I said OK.
The friend was sitting out on his front steps when we arrived and, rather than ducking his head toward me for the customary half-hug, love you, and goodbye, he just said thanks and got out of the car.
Hmm. A little odd. But the friend is right out there, and it's not someone he's been around a lot, so maybe he was just embarrassed by this ritual we'd been performing since he was a little kid. So I returned his casual wave goodbye and drove home.
It was, in retrospect, a bit disconcerting because he'd never let the presence of other people dissuade him from this quick acknowledgement of our mutual affection before but, as the kids say, whatever. Anyway, that's how I tried to play it.
Then, tonight, he called again. This time for a ride to his friend Hector's where he often spends a part of the weekend. Once again, I said OK, as long as he'd let his mom know.
In fact, his mom was in her car outside of the house when I arrived. So I got out and we chatted for a minute while I waited for the kid to come out of the house. I told her where I was taking him--which he hadn't--and she said she was OK with it. Typical.
On the way to Hector's, we chatted briefly about school, his current interests and the opportunities he might have to explore them there, followed by some talk about Steph Curry, KD, and Lebron in the third game of the NBA finals.
When we pulled up to the house, there was no one outside, no one but the two of us. A grandfather, his favorite grandson, and the fifteen years of caregiving and companionship that had been the emotional staple of both of our lives.
And then the door opened, he said thanks for the ride, and walked to the house.
As I drove away, the pain I felt made me wonder if his growing up really had to happen this way. And whether this was really growing up or, in fact, another step in growing apart?
So I decided to stop by the cemetery, which is also on that side of town, to maybe talk about it with his grandmother.
But when I got there, the girl with the black and silver Mercedes was parked across the row where I would've walked in.
For a moment, I hesitated and then decided that what I didn't need, right then, was one more person thinking I was nuts.
And so I drove back through the gates with the kind of sadness, in my heart and on my face, that you might be wearing if you'd just buried someone.
Which, I dunno, maybe I had...
LPK
Dreamwidth
6.8.2018
It was someone he'd been playing basketball with and his mom was going to bring him home, after she got out of work, so I said OK.
The friend was sitting out on his front steps when we arrived and, rather than ducking his head toward me for the customary half-hug, love you, and goodbye, he just said thanks and got out of the car.
Hmm. A little odd. But the friend is right out there, and it's not someone he's been around a lot, so maybe he was just embarrassed by this ritual we'd been performing since he was a little kid. So I returned his casual wave goodbye and drove home.
It was, in retrospect, a bit disconcerting because he'd never let the presence of other people dissuade him from this quick acknowledgement of our mutual affection before but, as the kids say, whatever. Anyway, that's how I tried to play it.
Then, tonight, he called again. This time for a ride to his friend Hector's where he often spends a part of the weekend. Once again, I said OK, as long as he'd let his mom know.
In fact, his mom was in her car outside of the house when I arrived. So I got out and we chatted for a minute while I waited for the kid to come out of the house. I told her where I was taking him--which he hadn't--and she said she was OK with it. Typical.
On the way to Hector's, we chatted briefly about school, his current interests and the opportunities he might have to explore them there, followed by some talk about Steph Curry, KD, and Lebron in the third game of the NBA finals.
When we pulled up to the house, there was no one outside, no one but the two of us. A grandfather, his favorite grandson, and the fifteen years of caregiving and companionship that had been the emotional staple of both of our lives.
And then the door opened, he said thanks for the ride, and walked to the house.
As I drove away, the pain I felt made me wonder if his growing up really had to happen this way. And whether this was really growing up or, in fact, another step in growing apart?
So I decided to stop by the cemetery, which is also on that side of town, to maybe talk about it with his grandmother.
But when I got there, the girl with the black and silver Mercedes was parked across the row where I would've walked in.
For a moment, I hesitated and then decided that what I didn't need, right then, was one more person thinking I was nuts.
And so I drove back through the gates with the kind of sadness, in my heart and on my face, that you might be wearing if you'd just buried someone.
Which, I dunno, maybe I had...
LPK
Dreamwidth
6.8.2018
no subject
Date: 2018-06-09 09:55 am (UTC)I have two sons. Between the ages of 13 and 20, neither of them would touch me in public. :-)
They're demonstrative again now. :-)
no subject
Date: 2018-06-11 01:06 am (UTC)But you’re right in the sense that, based on my experience with the father, I wouldn't have known what to expect from the grandson.
The reason being that my time with his father, between the ages of 13 and 20 (or, in my son's case, between 6 and 30), was mostly spent in places like the principal's office, the probation department, town court, etc.
And any physical contact would've more likely been that of hands around his neck than of arms giving a hug--although I tried that too.
So, my concern over the grandson is not simply about his absence from my own life but worry for the possible direction of his.
Basically, I’ve spent the past 15 years trying to be mother, father, and grandfather to the kid but, for the past 2 years, he’s been with his mom because that seemed, at one point, the safer place for him.
So maybe you’re right, that it would’ve been this way regardless. But under the circumstances it’s hard to take comfort in that especially since, as I’ve tried to tell him--in a not overly morbid way--that I won’t always be here to give him rides and help with problems.
Or give a parting hug, until next time…
no subject
Date: 2018-06-11 12:45 pm (UTC)My youngest son was a Bad Boy, too.
In fact, my move back to New York State from California (where I spent most of my adult life) was motivated in good part by concerns over Robin. A cop I was friendly with in the small Central Coast town where I lived dragged Robin back to my house one night at two in the morning and said, "Next time, we're gonna have to charge him."
So, I decided the best thing for Robin was to get him the hell away.
He's fine today, but riding herd on him took a lot out of me.
You won't always be around to give your grandson rides, but surely he won't have to speed-dial Uber for at least 20 years, right? :-) I hope! :-)
no subject
Date: 2018-06-11 02:54 pm (UTC)During her current health issues she has withdrawn and seeks comfort only from her mother.
Lately I wonder if I can even make it through a day at a time and certainly not till she matures enough to come back to my arms. But, that will be her loss cause I'll be, well you know, dead.
I feel you, deep down in my heart and my gut and while that is not a balm for your pain, at least you're not alone.