Generations

Last week I spent some time with our daughter and her family in San Diego.

Her twin sons turned one and she and her husband celebrated with a "We made it without killing each other and are still married" birthday party. The guest list included about 40 adults and their children. I arrived a few days early to help them get ready as our daughter decided to incorporate every party idea she saw on Pinterest. That's fine. At one point in my life I enjoyed throwing parties as well. And she really outdid herself with decorations and food.

I haven't seen our grandsons since shortly after they were born so this was a very special visit. We played on the floor, read books, went to museums (okay, so they are a little young to appreciate art), sat in fountains and played some more.

In between I watched my daughter as she made baby food, entertained her sons, cleaned house and ran errands. I marvel at the woman she has become, and wonder if my own Mother felt the same about me.

Our daughter's children are the great-grandchildren Mom will never know. She has met and played with our three sons' children and somewhere in the recesses of her mind their memories linger. Although they are too young to remember her, she still had the opportunity to read to them, bake cookies for them, and show them where Grandpa kept the candy. Only the two oldest great-grandchildren, however, will remember Great-Grandma as she was -- the woman who could play board games, sing songs and would listen as they practice reading for hours on end.

For the younger children, their memories will be the stories they hear about their great-grandparents. Often times we remember those who are gone with fondness though it is only stories we remember. I never knew either one of my grandmothers, but that doesn't necessarily mean I never knew who they were. I can look at photos of my Grandma Daling and those photos -- combined with the stories Mom told me -- help me know who the woman was. And I hope that is how our grandchildren will remember their great-grandmother.

Mom Update:
After a two week absence from visiting Mom, it was evident I was an "extra" in the company who joined her at our weekly "breakfast with Mom." If there were ever a glimmer of recognition during these meetings, it was gone during this visit. Or mostly gone. When I kissed her goodbye at the end of our visit, she gripped me tightly and held me for a moment. "I'll see you soon, Mom," I whispered to her. She may not have heard. She may not have understood if she did hear, but the thought was there.