I went to the family reunion somewhat grudgingly.
A distant cousin had been doing research and discovered a pool of people that shared her great-great-grandfather. She planned a trip from Colorado to Michigan to Pennsylvania to Connecticut. She wondered if the Michigan people could meet.
So a bunch of people with Kies somewhere in their family tree got together.
Because the ties went back so far, most of the clusters in the room didn’t know each other. In fact, it was more like 4 family reunions than one, as each subgroup talked with the people they knew.
I ended up across the table from Harold. I had never met him, as he was a cousin a thousand times removed of my wife’s. But we started talking as we ate. He talked of siblings who had died, grandchildren and greatgrandchildren numbered about seventy. He talked about military and feeding birds and life.
And then his grandson came over and sat down next to him, gazing at him. Lee was about 20, I would guess. He looked at his grandfather, just watching, just waiting.
Harold talked about Lee, about the time when they went squirrel hunting and he told the 5-year-old to be as still as possible. A chickidee perched on a branch inches from Lee’s face and he never moved, he just watched. Lee told about a robin landing on his hand a couple weeks ago. Harold talked about the mowing he does now that he’s retired, mowing county cemeteries. “If I need help, Lee is always there.”
As I watched the deep affection, I realized that Lee was used to his grandfather gossiping good. He was used to just being close, just being cared for. He knew that he didn’t have to worry about the stories being told on him, stories to a complete stranger, because he knew his grandfather’s love.
And it makes me wonder: do our children worry when I open my mouth about them?
When Harold got up to leave, to take his wife and her wheelchair home, he said, “I’m glad I came. I almost didn’t.”
I told him I understood completely.
by Jon Swanson
Photo graciously provided by law_keven, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved
1 response so far ↓
Debbie // Jun 28, 2008 at 3:07 pm
I often wonder what my children think of what Peter and I say about them. This is actually a common presentation topic at adoption conferences. For example: Do I mention why they were adopted, and thereby perhaps disrespect their privacy? Or do I not mention it, and thereby give them the impression that I’m ashamed to mention it? Regardless, something all adoptive parents are advised these days is that their kid’s reasons for having been adopted are the kid’s own reasons and should be treated as such. Therefore, if you ask me what happened to my children’s birthparents, please don’t be offended if I smile politely and explain that I can’t tell you unless my children give me permission.
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