Ulysses (an edited excerpt)

Old age hath yet his honor and his toil. 
Death closes all; but something ere the end, 
Some work of noble note, may yet be done, 
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods. …

Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’ 
We are not now that strength which in old days 
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,— 
One equal temper of heroic hearts, 
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will 
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

––Alfred Lord Tennyson

This was one of my father’s favorite poems. As is becoming ever more obvious since his passing 8 years ago, “not a day goes by” (my brother’s words) that I don’t think about something he said or did with new insight about him (and about myself) as he grew older. The hard parts about aging is the continuous sense of loss–loss of friends, loved ones, prowess, relevance, physical strength–and the ever-creeping signs of growing older. I never understood nostalgia before, but now I seem to swim in it. The great thing about aging, however, is that the experiences of my life, which burnished and shaped me into what I am now, seem to have given me greater patience and knowledge. I have more time to think. I now understand and constantly remind myself that I don’t know what I don’t know. I am still not good at letting go, but I have gotten better at just letting things be.

Enter Evelyn

The birth of our granddaughter Evelyn 9 months ago has been a gift I didn’t know I needed. We didn’t expect grandparenthood to happen imminently; to be honest, we didn’t expect our firstborn to have children, and had figured maybe our younger son and his wife would do so down the road. I had kids on the later side of motherhood–at least in the early 90s I was called a “geriatric” first-time mother at the age of 33. So the idea that I would even be in my mid-60s should grandparenthood happen wasn’t really an expectation. We thought our son was getting another cat when he and his wife came over two Christmases ago with “Grandma” and “Grandpa” mugs. An ultrasound snapped us out of that idea and nothing has been the same since.

“Don’t tell your kids, but you will love that grandchild more than you love her parents,” a co-worker told me. While I won’t go that far, there is something just primal about how I feel about Evelyn. I was smitten by my boys when they were young (and I kind of still am…) And yet, the experience of taking care of my granddaughter is very different than taking care of my own sons when they were babies and toddlers. It feels like I am addicted to her.

Why is it different? Although I am at my core the same person I was in my 30s, 40s, and 50s, I feel so different at 68 about time itself and about the future. I now have more of my life behind me than ahead, and while that makes me sad in many ways, I relish the feeling of experiencing so much less pressure when I care for Evie than I did as a mom to two boys. I feel so much more fluid about time spent with her. The 9 or 10 hours I am with my granddaughter while her parents work feel so different than when I was home alone with my young boys when they were babies and toddlers. I have no agenda when I’m with Evie other than, at most, “Can we launch all this baby equipment into the car so Grandma can get a coffee and scone at Small World?” My mantra (to quote Buckaroo Bonzai) is “Be here now.” It helps that I am not worried about dinner or food shopping or cleaning ….or about getting my paid work done. And it is glorious. I do love my “days off,” but I miss Evelyn terribly on those days and can’t wait to see her again. There is something so physical about loving this baby, the way her skin feels and her head smells. When she is delivered to me in the morning, all I need to see is that blinding smile and soft little “ha!” sound she makes when Lily licks her face as we get her out of the car seat. The way she gently puts her nose on mine and looks in my eyes as she leans into me. Nothing else matters. And seeing your grown child parent his own child is such a treat. Asking for child care pointers is now bidirectional. Who knew? And my son said it is fun to see his parents turn into grandparents.

Some Work of Noble Note

I read somewhere that grandparents’ love comes from knowing how fast childhood disappears. We already carried the weight of raising our children, and now we are able to let go of that weight with grandchildren and experience more of the joy. Parenting the first time around is fraught, as we are filled with so much fear and worry about our many responsibilities, and are consumed with getting things “right”–as if we even know what that is. It takes a lifetime to realize that getting things “right” will not necessarily be right for your child or you. I don’t feel like I’m swimming upstream with my granddaughter. Her parents will have the heavier swim; I’m floating behind them lending a hand.

Yes, it is very physically challenging. The first month I cared for Evie my entire body hurt and my back and arm muscles ached. I am drinking more coffee (which is saying a lot). Figuring out the baby’s equipment, car seat, stroller, all those snapping-together parts and straps, and the physical strain of all the hoisting and tossing of the equipment is, quite literally, a heavy lift. Psychologically, I have someone new to worry deeply about now, and as an anxious person, that is an enduring struggle that I will have to navigate, but I hope I’ve learned enough about living with anxiety not to let it spill onto Evie and dampen her natural sunniness.

It is just overwhelming to contemplate all the personal and historical events that happened over thousands of years to place this little person in my arms. I have pictures of my parents and David’s mom around my house, and sometimes when I am holding Evie as I walk past their photos, I think, “If only they had lived long enough to see her.” Though she is gone, I hear my mother inside my head so many times a day as I care for Evie, still helping me to cope with this new phase of my life.