I had a wild dog, an Irish Setter, who, had he been a human, would have been on Retinol. When he was 8 years old, I asked the vet when he would settle down. His answer was true: “He will never settle down,” the vet told me, “but he will sleep longer between bouts of insanity.”
This is a metaphor for retirement: there are long sleeps between bouts, not of insanity, but of shakings – an expected, comfortable part of life changes or disappears altogether.
One of those changes was selling my home and moving to a new neighborhood. Another was the unexpected death of my sister. The intrusion of Co-Vid changed my patterns of daily life.
The latest shift for me has been the growth of my grandchildren.
When I retired, I had 4 grandchildren, ages 4, 2, 3 months and a new-born. I settled into a comfortable role: on-call babysitter, playmate, story-teller, appreciative audience of one. It was a vocation with which I was quite happy and comfortable. And I expected it to last – for at least the foreseeable future.
Now, I am the grandparent of 6 grandchildren, ages 10 through 18. The oldest has graduated from high school and is on her way to Baylor University. Two are in high school, and two, in jr. high. I persist in thinking of the youngest, the 10 year-old, as my last remaining baby, but I would never reveal that to him – in his mind he is as old, smart, and capable as his big brother.
In the past, when I walked into their houses, my grandchildren would celebrate: “Hooray! Gran’s here!” And we would begin our play.
Today, my grandchildren, busy with their own activities and friendships, often do not notice when I arrive, and more often, are not even at home.
I am comforted by this wisdom from a 1953 book: “There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these. . .is roots, the other, wings. (Carter, Hodding. Where Main Street Meets the River)
I knew this when my own children left for college, but somehow I believed that my grandchildren would never outgrow their childhoods. I am relearning the lesson, relearning joy for their accomplishments, excitement and support for their movement toward maturity and, eventually, into adulthood.
I am also moving, toward an acceptance of my new place in their lives.
But now, I am seeking a new role – what will replace the time I used to spend with them? What will give me the sense of purpose and fulfillment that I enjoyed when they were smaller?
I will continue to explore – stay tuned!