Grandkids make me sentimental
I’ve always been emotional, but since my grandchildren were born, sometimes I feel like I’ve morphed into a blubbering baby.
Take my granddaughter’s graduation from elementary school on May 22, for example. When Tilleigh, 11, walked into the gymnasium with the other 99 members of her class, the tears began trickling down my face.
How did she grow up so fast?
She’s grown from a fiesty little girl into a beautiful young woman. She looked so graceful and mature walking across the gym floor to receive her diploma.
And William. OMG, William. Our beautiful, curlyhaired little boy graduated from preschool two days
later. It seems like we were celebrating his first birthday a couple months ago. In September, he turns 6. When he marched into the church wearing a cap and gown, I all but lost it. I envisioned him as a high school senior walking across the stage on graduation day.
Long curls hung from his cap, and I could see his hair looking the exact way 12 years into the future.
I’ve got a couple theories about why I’m getting so emotional. One, my grandchildren are growing up seemingly faster than my children. And, two, my mortality. Even if I live a long and healthy life, I’m already 65, and, if I make it to my mom’s age when she died, I’ve got 20 years left.
The way I look at my mortality is how much more time do I get to spend with the grandkids. Will I know my great-grandchildren? Will I get to see the kids graduate from college? Will Tilleigh make it to Broadway or films? Will Evie, who was just promoted to third grade, one day swim the English Channel like her Aunt Karah, and, if she does, will I get to be on the official boat like I was with Karah?
Will William still be shy?
And, our baby, Charleana, 17 months, who lives in San Diego. What’s this little firecracker going to be like? She’s already charming us with her witty, outgoing personality. I want to see her grow up.
I don’t want to miss anything.
Every single day, I want my late parents to be here so they can see their incredible great-grandchildren, three of whom bear their names — Evelyn (Evie), William and Charleana (my mom’s middle name was Leana). My parents would adore these babies.
When I was a young mother, I often asked God to please let me live long enough to raise my children. Nowadays, the prayer has morphed into please let me live long enough to see my grandchildren grown. And maybe throw a few great-grandchildren years in there, too.
Meanwhile, I’ll enjoy every day I get to spend with my family. My husband, Hank, and I are fortunate to live next door to three of our grandchildren, and he’s just as emotional as I am about them. We are thankful that we get the opportunity to be with them so often and share such a big part of their lives.
Happiness is not what you have; it’s who you love.
Being a grandparent is everything to me. The children are my gifts for growing old.
Contact Karen Nazor Hill at khill@ timesfreepress.com.