Farewell to the bright lights!

It’s been a whirlwind few days. This past week was Angus and Emma’s final week with us, so there were many things to finish up. Last day of Emma’s work; final work on the yard renovation – Angus’s project. Finally, everything was done, and we sat looking at one another realizing that there was only one sleep left before the kids returned home. They were understandably excited: old friends, new school, folks they hadn’t seen for some weeks. On the other hand…

We were sinking into sadness. No more lively table conversations about…whatever. No more wry comments from Silent Sam (Angus) about whatever was happening. Movies watched without running commentary from Emma, along with reams of information that she knew and we didn’t about the movie business, and this particular movie.

This morning, the house was ominously quiet. No sleepy Emma arriving at the top of the stairs, half asleep, with a book in front of her face. No more Angus refusing breakfast until he woke up…usually ten minutes after he sat down, glassy eyed, at the table.

It is impossible in a few lines to share the significance to me of the residence of these two beautiful young people in our home. Not only are they grandchildren to me, but also young friends who are valued and enjoyed any time. Much of the time they were, my blood pressure was above the norm – high, you would call it – because I was engaged with exciting people. The only really anxious moments I experienced were during Emma’s driving practice sessions. This was not because of Emma’s skill or lack of it. She is developing into a good driver, and I watched her skills blossom with each outing. It was me, feeling anxious because I was responsible for the whole thing.

Learning to know Angus was a different challenge. He is often silent, explaining that he’d rather say things in a few words, and one time, rather than babble on. Early on I wondered if he was bored, or depressed. Hours would pass…not a word. Or perhaps he was mad at me, or unhappy with us generally. Emma assured me that this was “just Angus.” Then, one day, I took him for a long walk. Bam!

Walking opened Angus up. As we walked, he talked, and talked, sharing his ideas (some wise…and some kookie) as we travelled. We walked on two or three hot afternoons, and I learned a ton about this quiet and creative kid, my grandson.

My recovery continues apace. The stresses of child-presence were a good test for me. I survived; I loved it. As Emma would declare after each session of driving: “No carnage…no wreckage! I survived!”