Amid the grief of this past summer, after the June 21 death of my wife, Jean, one of my most important emotional anchors was almost daily meetings with my two grandchildren Kayley, almost 11 and Collin, 8.
I sat drinking my coffee while they enjoyed smoothies and we explored life through their amazing lens. They played their video games a bit and then I’d call timeout for conversation. We talked about their favorite this or that and I told stories about the “old days” and they taught me how to play Minecraft. I found Minecraft a remarkable learning tool for youngsters their age. Many people fear this Generation Z will not be creative. Minecraft is the soul of creativity.
One day the conversation wandered to the fact that I was moving out of the apartment Jean and I rented even though we only spent about 11 weeks year in Minnesota. I told the kids that next summer I would stay in a Residence Inn.
I said, “You know guys, I have to be thinking about the time you two won’t want to have much to do with Grandpa in the summer.” Both Collin and Kayley looked at me as if I had a third eye in the middle of my head. They were more than incredulous and protested much. “That won’t happen Grandpa,” they said in unison.
The sweet young things have no clue about the hormones, rebellion and contrariness that will grip them in a few short years. Their parents, and I need to savor moments like that because I fear soon that will be a funny and fuzzy memory.