vendredi, janvier 27, 2012
To a father
Dear Dad --
There's so much I want to tell you.
So much that I wish you'd known before you left.
I am sure of something -- a fact.
You were unabashedly proud of your grandchildren. They were above reproach. Any critical comment I made, whether it be about behavior or homework, was excused on the general basis that your grands could do no wrong.
It used to tick me off. Now I miss your total vote of confidence in them.
More to the point, I think that they could really use it now.
It's been a bear of a six months, Dad. Things have changed in our family. I'm not sure exactly what's happening, but we're losing something important.
I think it's probably gone forever.
Anyhow, Dad, I wanted to give you an update on the kids.
The DQ -- well, she's like Mom. She's lovely, Dad. But you knew that. She bids fair to be like her grandmother -- creative, disorganized and funny.
We're thinking of hocking the silver so she can go abroad to a study program this summer -- to be honest, it's kind of an intervention to see if being in a foreign country in a German program (she's got your gift for learning languages) would help her mature.
And Mr. C? Dad, as he was going out the kitchen door yesterday, he told me that coats were for "losers" and "sissies." Then he said that he was going to wear one anyway.
You know why?
William Henry Harrison, our President back in the day (if your day was 1840) didn't wear a coat to his inauguration. A month later, he died of pneumonia.
As a friend said to me last night, no other child in America probably wore his or her coat yesterday for that particular reason - oh, dad, do you suppose he could be your grandson?
I spy on him on Facebook (yeah, I'd have to explain Facebook to you) and watch him being a goof, and I'm thrilled.
I'm their mom, so I know how imperfect they are. But so am I, as you know.
I don't think you'd have any reason to revise your grandfatherly bias, though.
I'm crying, Dad. I'm going to sign off and mop up.
But I wanted you to know -- and somehow, someway, I want to believe that you do already.
Tell Mom and Jonathan, please.
And love to all of you.