He wasn’t genetically related, but I always considered him my first grandchild. The son of my daughter’s partner (now husband) he was three years old when he came into our lives. My daughter took on the role of stepmother quickly and with great enthusiasm, but because of ongoing antagonism and unresolvable conflicts during an acrimonious custody battle with his birth mother, it was not an easy one. He, also, despite being a delightful child at times, was not easy to deal with. Diagnosed with ADHD, he had learning difficulties and problems socialising at school from the very start. Being a not-quite grandmother was not an easy role too. I could offer love and acceptance but always felt on the periphery.
My first ‘real’ grandson was born while I was recovering from breast cancer surgery. I found it difficult to bond with him at first, fearing I had only a limited time on this earth and I didn’t want to get too attached. It didn’t work, and soon he and I became the best of friends sharing much quality time together playing games and building cardboard robots. Two and a half years later his little sister was born, and despite my ongoing health issues, I was at their house as soon as possible to welcome her into the world.
My role as a grandmother was gradually expanding until November 2015 when catastrophe struck. Grandson (well step-grandson) number one was killed in a car accident, aged just 17. It was devastating news. I took charge of the little ones, dressed in their best clothes (by then nearly five and two) at the funeral where we all said our sad goodbyes: such a tragedy for the little ones to lose their beloved big brother so early in their lives.
There is so much heartache being a grandmother. We watch, we listen, we hold hands as we walk to the park, we write letters, send postcards and shop thoughtfully for birthday and Christmas presents. But we can’t protect them from the realities of this world.
The little ones, now seven and four and a half, have just spent the weekend with me while their parents attended a friend’s wedding. Already I notice signs of twenty-first-century life that disturb me. Where once the weekend would be spent reading and making up stories, cooking banana cupcakes and walks to the park, now the daylight hours are spent monitoring the time they spend on their iPads and trying to get some nourishing food into them.
Still, the fleeting memories of joyous grandmother moments occasionally compensate for this heartache: big smiles and hugs when they arrive, lots of giggles when the bubbles in the bath gradually take over the bathroom and soft, warm bodies snuggled up next to me when I put them to bed at night. Then, of course, they always have to go home.
Six months ago I became a grandmother again, well actually a step-grandmother, as the latest addition to our family was the first child of my partner’s daughter. However, due to our health issues and the fact that they live interstate, my partner has only met him once, and I have only been able to see him via smartphone updates. We hope to have him more in our lives…in time.
The well renowned social anthropologist, Margaret Mead is recorded as expressing so much about grandchildren and grandparents in this quote: “Everyone needs to have access to both grandchildren and grandparents in order to be a full human being.” And in the process of becoming a full human being the fullness will include not only moments of joy but also moments of sadness and heartache. It sometimes just takes a while to come to grips with this!
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