I think I have searched most of my life for a place of comfort, acceptance, peace – not necessarily among others, but with myself. And I think I am not alone in this journey.
What I’ve found rather late in life is that neither place nor circumstance matter so much as role. For me, that is the role of caregiver as grandparent, pouring out all of the love with little of the end of the day responsibility. It is a beautiful part to play, one I cherish every day.
Just a few years ago, watching as my daughter gave birth, I could’t have imagined the void that existed in my life, nor the complete takeover of my heart by these new little lives. Even on days when I am literally run ragged, when my muscles hurt from carrying one or the other up and down steps, when we are listening to ‘Hickory Dickory Dock” for the 34th time that morning, when paint is splattered across me and the grandchildren, and avocado has become hair mousse, even then, I am at peace with this new role. And at night, when I have left the chaos of grandchildren behind and my head gratefully hits the pillow, only then do I think of my mother, her too early death, and the joy of grand parenting lost both for her and for my own children. It is here still that I have found peace and comfort, acceptance, gratitude, and profound joy.
