“Daddy, are you going to eat lunch with me at school tomorrow?” Meileah asked this question with big, round eyes as I tucked her into bed last night.
“What? Is it a special day?” I replied buying myself some time because a Twix wasn’t readily available.
“Yes,” she replied with enough coy mystery to write a dozen sitcoms.
“Well, it’s not your birthday.”
“Noooooooo.”
“Well, what is it?”
“I don’t know, but parents are invited to come and eat lunch.” The look in her eyes told me she knew no more.
I walked her into school this morning to find out what was planned. Today is Grandparents’ Day. I said goodbye to Meileah and turned to walk back to the car when grief and tears showed up tag-teaming me like two five hundred pound wrestlers with an agenda… and they didn’t bring tissues.
- Elisa and my Father on Grandparents’ Day 2000 (I think)
Grandparents’ Day was always a special day in our house. Many times, both Kaye’s parents and my parents traveled to our house. Our former school hosted a day of events—musical program, school tour, classroom visits, and more. Our children created special essays and artwork to present to their grandparents. One grade level even made the diagramming of a sentence a performance art. Our parents felt so special and honored. Our children felt so loved. To be transparent, I think that Grandparents’ Day was more connecting and memory-making than Christmas. The happiness and excitement weren’t manufactured or expected. They were the product of childlike joy—in both our children and our parents.
Since moving to Nashville, we’ve homeschooled. We enrolled Meileah in school this year. This is the first Grandparents’ Day since 2004.
A lot changes in 6+ years. My dad, my mom, and Kaye’s dad are now in heaven. Kaye’s mom can’t travel.
As I walked to the car, the memories flooded back. I’ll never forget the smiles of pride on their faces, the laughter, the hugs, watching my dad get in and out of a child’s classroom chair, and so much more. And I’ll remember the tears we all shed. Tears of joy at the special feeling of the day. Tears of time as we each silently mourned the passing of time and the growing up of children.
Today, in honor of my parents, I will eat lunch with Meileah and listen as her classmates entertain their grandparents. The memories will be heavy—like a lead blanket at the dentist—but they will not be burdensome. I will share a story or two with her about her grandparents.
Grief surprised me today, but I choose to dance with it and remember The Teacher’s words.
It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, because that is the end of every man, and the living takes it to heart.
– Ecclesiastes 7:2
When and where has grief surprised you? How did you walk through it.
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