On Being A Grandparent

The faces of your children and grandchildren are a living family tree. They put you in touch with your ancestors.

Some time after my oldest son, Eric, was born, I pulled out an old photograph, one of the few I have, of my father's mother. In it, she was younger than I'd ever seen her, and beautiful. I suddenly realized that her eyes and the top half of her face had been reproduced in the face of my beautiful son.  Wide apart eyes, squared perfectly on his face.

Now, my grandson's face fascinates me. People tell me he is the image of his father, and yes, I agree. But he also looks like his mother, and sometimes he looks like me. And a few days later, he looks different again.

The potentiality of a grandchild is so varied. Follow in Mom's or Dad's footsteps, yes, possibly. But also find bliss in doing exactly, more or less, the same sorts of things their grandparents did. I experienced this myself when I became a Unitarian Universalist and told my mother about it. She recalled that her mother, my Grandmother, had made a habit of getting dressed for church on a Sunday morning, but instead of going to the same church week after week, would set out and end up in a church she had never been to before. Unknowing, I had searched for and chosen a non-traditional, non-conformist religion just as she had apparently done in her own way.

When you have a grandchild, you become the generation holding the family fort against death. It's both a bitter understanding and a call to share your wisdom with this new being. Most definitely, it's a rite of passage.