My Grandson

How do I write bout TomTom? Is it the sickness of regret and loss that I don’t want to look at? I can’t let go. I can let go. I won’t let go. Willfullness. Won’tfullness. I don’t want to be sorry, sad, grieving. OK. I want him in my life. Inside me he lives his beautiful life. I’ve spent a bit of time with him. I’ve delighted in wonderful stories about him from his mother. Beyond the usual ravings of grandmothers, TomTom really is a most remarkable child/young man. I know this even though I hardly know him.

I’m of the age that my peers are starting to have grandchildren. They are so proud. They ask if I have any yet, knowing Buster & Ezzy are out in the world somewhere. I don’t answer quickly. It’s too much information for someone asking casually. Recently someone who’s known about TomTom all his life forgot. She asked me if I was looking forward to having grandchildren, showing how she is looking forward to it. I reminded her, oh yes, I already have one. He’s turning sixteen now.

That sets some people back on their rear ends.

It’s hard to talk about because the relationship doesn’t manifest in the world the way we’d like. So much time went by struggling to come to terms with unifying my families. I was fearful of meeting him. I wanted to come to peace with Joy first. She and I seemed so unstable I feared involving this innocent. I didn’t want him to share the pain. In trying to keep that to myself, I kept everything to myself, a sad, sick selfishness that meant I was holding onto pain instead of letting go and going forward.

So now he’s near grown. He doesn’t want much to do with me. He’s got more than four grandparents that have demonstrated their caring throughout his life. He knows his own mother has hurt terribly in finding ways to connect with me.

He knows that more definitely than either Buster or Ezzy could. And I know how they try to protect and defend me. Even Joy protects and defends me, the childish mother she found.

Now he’s growing up and I’m wondering. Is he able to share with people? Is he trusting to share his pains and triumphs and wishes? Is he living his life fully – my vicarious wish? Am I? I know he is in good hands. And I am keeping him in my prayers, just as I kept Joy in my prayers throughout her life. I see how I’ve repeated with him, the loss experience. Not wanting to intrude seems so useless in retrospect. That’s an important lesson, learning to show up and trust in life, in God, that I can contribute something good to a situation or relationship in spite of the pain.