We are about to welcome a new life into the family, and I can feel the emotion welling up inside of me. Excitement yes, but also grief. It has been almost three years since my father died suddenly. Throughout this time, I have not allowed myself to deal with my loss. I suppose I’m still in survivor mode and I haven’t been brave enough to face my emotions head on yet. The loss and grief are starting to seep to the surface, and I’m fighting to hold it back. I’m pretty sure to lose this battle soon.
Sometime over the next forty-eight hours, I will be granted a new title. My oldest daughter Brianna is going to deliver her baby girl, and I will become a Grandmother for the first time. I am thrilled and eagerly anticipating being a part of this baby’s life and looking forward to an even deeper relationship with my daughter Brianna and her husband as they become new parents.
I’ve always had a close relationship with my parents. My mom and I shopped together, went to lunch together, played games around the kitchen table, and when I was young, she listened and consoled me as I struggled to understand why girls were so mean. When mom opened her candy store, she trusted me to be her first employee.
Dad was my coach. First, he coached me in sports, girls softball and golf. Later in life, he coached me on building relationships, management, and sales. He was a pro at developing talent and building people’s strengths whether it was for athletic competition or business. When I was older, he became my go-to person to help me understand the intricacies of working relationships, how to build a team, and be a good boss.
Like most women, I have stories about the birth of each of my children. But what I remember most is watching my dad hold his grandbabies for the first time. My dad was an emotional guy, and we teased him often for his wild laughter, surprise, anger, and tears. No one could laugh like Michael, throw a five iron like Michael, or be brought to tears like Michael.
He became Papa when Brianna was born. I remember my dad holding Brianna for the first time, and he beamed with joy and pride. Then his tears came. Relief that everyone was healthy, excitement for the future, and the sheer delight of holding his granddaughter, his first “little peanut,” who would later become “The Princess.” It was the same when Lindsey was born, his “littlest peanut” and when his first grandson, Luke, was born and he was dubbed “The Luke Man.”
Brianna has always held a unique place in the hearts of her grandparents and has been especially close to them. We lived only a short distance from my parents when Brianna was born, and my mom helped me with childcare when I went to work. We spent a great deal of time together. We took Brianna to watch my brother, who was a high school senior, play baseball. We’d sit in the stands cheering John’s team on, and Brianna would be passed up and down the bleachers by his teammate’s moms. Mom and I took Brianna to dad’s office so he could show off his beautiful granddaughter. We spent almost every Sunday together having a family dinner, often after Mama and Papa babysat so Brianna’s father and I could enjoy going to see a movie.
My Dad was also a highly successful marathon runner in his age bracket competing around the country and later coaching others to success as well. Brianna and I went with mom to cheer my Dad on when he competed in many of the marathons he ran each year.
One of my dad’s prized possessions was a watercolor painting that my mom had commissioned from a snapshot that I took while dad was running in the Houston Marathon on a foggy day in 1989. You can see my mom holding Brianna, not quite one year old, and cheering my dad as he approached them on the route.
Brianna was not an athlete, so her Papa never had the chance to coach her in sports. Instead, Brianna grew up singing and dancing. When she graduated from high school, she attended the University of Texas majoring in Theater and Dance. Nothing pleased her Papa more than to watch his granddaughter perform and to brag to his friends about her accomplishments.
While Brianna was attending school in Austin, my parents were living close by in Fredericksburg, Texas. They saw each other frequently. In fact, Brianna saw my parents more than I did during those years. I had just had Luke and was a full-time working mother making it difficult for me to get away as much as I wanted to see them. I relied on their visits to Houston. It was during this time that my dad was able to enjoy a new kind of relationship with his Princess. One where he could be not just a grandfather, but a mentor and strong male role model in her life as she began her journey to find her place in the world.
Fast forward a few years, and it is New Year’s Eve 2015. We are together celebrating the marriage of Brianna to her beau, Matt. Brianna asked her grandfather to prepare a toast to give at the reception that evening. He stepped onto the dance floor with his wife of fifty-three years beside him and raised a glass to his Princess and the newest member of our family, Matt.
I had instructed the videographer to make sure he had this event captured so that Brianna would be able to watch it again and always have that moment with her Papa. It seemed like months before we had all of the photos and videos from the photographer. I have the videos tucked away on a disc in my safe. I haven’t watched them yet. My father died suddenly a few months after Brianna’s wedding. The healthiest 74-year old I knew had a stroke and was gone.
This weekend, Brianna Paige (The Princess) is going to have her first baby. Emma Paige will be our newest “little peanut.” I often imagined what it would be like to watch my father hold his first great-grandchild in his arms and how he would beam at Brianna and cry with joy holding the baby just as he had done when she was born. Then he would watch as I held my first grandchild, feeling a sense of pride with the birth of another generation.
I know that it will be hard for Brianna and my Mother too. They will be missing Papa’s presence. But he will be there in spirit. Emma is a week past her due date, and the doctor says it is time to come out and join us this weekend.
It just so happens that this Sunday is the annual running of the Houston Marathon. I think that bit of trivia in Emma’s birth story will be a special reminder to her of her Papa’s presence the weekend she was born. As Emma grows up, she will see the watercolor painting of her Papa running still hanging up at Mama’s house, and every year around her birthday a group of runners will gather and race in Houston just like her Papa did so many times. I think that is a pretty fine way for her to be reminded of her Papa, the man we still miss so much.
As for my grief, I know that like my father, once I hold my granddaughter the only thing I will feel is pride and joy and the missing will turn into happy remembering and celebration. So, come on Little Peanut, let’s get you to the finish line so we can celebrate.
PS: Brianna I love you and I am so proud of you. You are going to be an awesome mom!
