What Do You Want… for Your Grandchildren?
You may be thinking, “Hey, didn’t he just skip right over our children?” and you’d be right, but all of that is pretty much in here. Just thinking beyond the beyond…
One of my two grandsons recently lost his mother to cancer that was first discovered when she was pregnant with him six years ago.
The first thing I felt when she passed was profound sadness and loss. She was a remarkable young woman who had done much for many in her short life. So many, in fact that we caused a traffic jam at her funeral. The outpouring of tribute was very moving and clearly richly deserved.
As the next few days passed by, I started thinking about what the future would be for my son and his son who had just lost their beloved wife and mother. It was still unimaginable, even though we had known for years that it could happen someday. At first, every time I thought about it my mind returned to thoughts of her, and how we had worked so well together to build our relationship. She became very much a daughter to me, more than a daughter-in-law. And she was clearly my wife’s best friend.
The First Layer of Future
Along with other friends and family members, I watched my son as he explained to his son what had just happened. We were all crying. The gentleness and tenderness with which he explained her death was nothing short of amazing. He didn’t couch anything. He explained that we now had to put Mommy in the ground, to which my six-year-old grandson asked, “But how will she breathe? How will she eat?”
My son carefully explained that she wouldn’t be doing those things anymore. It’s remarkable how you can see a young child’s mind trying to grasp profound new concepts. He was fearful that his father had “Kansas” just like his mother. My son assured him that cancer, not Kansas, only affects some people, and it had affected Mommy so badly that the doctors couldn’t fix it.
So, the first thing I knew I wanted for my grandson was that someday be able to come to terms with what he had just lost. I was fifteen when my father passed, and it took me a long time to come to terms with not having him there. I couldn’t imagine what it would take for a six-year-old.
The Second Layer of Future
Since we were staying at my son’s house, I began to look around me and try to imagine them living here, and what would have to change going forward. The pragmatist in me needed to come out. I knew my wife would remain here for some time longer to help get everything organized and take care of all the things that needed taking care of. The outpouring of help from all the friends was awe-inspiring. A reminder that there are still very, very good people in the world, and my daughter-in-law knew where to find them.
My inner pragmatist quickly realized that my incredibly supercompetent wife, the universal caregiver, would have all the pragmatic stuff well under control.
The Third Layer of Future
Inevitably, the eternal question had to arise. “Why does God let bad things happen to good people?”
Good young people, too. So young. So full of life and promise with so much more she wanted to do for so many. When I describe her as beautiful, it is not a reference to the fact that no camera could take a bad picture of her. She was just effortlessly selfless. She was always finding new ways to contribute to her family, her community, her friends. It was as natural to her as breathing.
So, I went to speak with the few people who truly understand my relationship with God and asked them to sanity-check my suggested answer to the eternal question.
I accepted long ago that there were things in the Universe that I could simply not comprehend. I’ve written about this before here in WDYW. If there was a “Big Bang” that created the Universe, where did that occur? In other words, what was there… before there was? Or before “there” was there.
And if there was one thing I could not comprehend, it was reasonable that there were more.
In this case, what I felt I could not comprehend was why God would take such a remarkable woman who was doing so much good in the world so very early. My considered response was that God had a reason somewhere in His grand plan that I could simply not comprehend. I chose to have faith that there was some good reason way beyond my reach. I may have done that for the comfort it brings. I may have just been struggling for a way past the question.
The Fourth Level of Future
Next it was time to move my focus from the dead to the living. What would the future hold for my beloved son and grandson?
Having lost my own father early, I long ago decided that my job was to furnish my sons with all the tools they needed to determine their own future, and values that would serve them and all those they encountered. The importance of living a life of service to others, and proactively building their network of valued friends. They knew early on that nothing was going to come easy. They still talk about their resentment of my relentless demands for better performance in school and sports and interactions with people. A grade of 99 was sure to be met with Dad asking, “Why not 100?”
When it came time to choose colleges, I told them my only requirement of them was that they choose something they could be passionate about to pursue for their career.
Both my sons have more than fulfilled that obligation, for which I am grateful and beyond pleased.
Now, of course, those tools are being passed along to my grandsons, along with many more created by my sons as they learned the world. I’m confident that both will launch their sons into even more wonderful passion-drenched lives.
The Fifth and Final Layer of Future
Everybody dies, and almost everybody wants to live forever. The Buddhists are taught to “embrace impermanence.” It is a valuable learning.
In looking at my grandsons, I am all but forced to cast my gaze backward, to my father, and my grandfather, and beyond. Nobody walking the Earth will ever share as much of my DNA as my sons and now my grandsons do. They are truly the only way in which any part of me will be carried forward into the future. They are my continuity. My legacy. Just as I was for my father and he for his. We are all links in a chain, and we must work hard to forge the next links beyond us to be as strong and resilient as we possibly can.
Will they have children to carry us forward? Will their children have children? That’s not something we can know, but certainly is something we can pray and plan for. The more we give to them to carry them forward, the better the chances are that our lineage will continue. As I meditate on that, there is real comfort to be found.