Julie Cole is the co-founding VP of Mabel’s Labels, the leading provider of labels for the stuff kids lose!
Like her on Facebook – Mabel’s Labels or follow on Twitter @juliecole and @mabelhood
My father passed away in December 2010. He had spent the last several years very unwell, and my mother spent a lot of her time taking care of him.
That can be a difficult situation for any family, but it is even more difficult when the person you are caring for continuously makes choices that contribute to their bad health. And so, although he was a loved man, the result was a team of fairly frustrated family members.
My biggest frustration was trying to understand why he didn’t make choices that would allow him to be involved more fully in the lives of his grandchildren. He adored each and every one of them. Every morning he asked my mother which of his grandbabies was going to visit that day. He had frequent visits from his collection of loving grandkids, who called him “The Gaffer.” Kids would disappear into his man cave and they’d have the place trashed instantly – toys everywhere, cushions off the couches and the TV channel changed to their station. Every visit was a kid invasion into The Gaffer’s space. Interestingly, he was not at all bothered by the noise or chaos. He was never impatient with them and he certainly never snapped at any child. Visits ended with hugs, kisses and “I love you’s.”
But I always felt their relationship wasn’t good enough because he didn’t actually DO anything with my children. His illness made it so he couldn’t – that pesky illness that didn’t really have to be there. My dad never read to the children, and certainly never played a board game or did a puzzle with them. He didn’t take them out for walks or do any of the other things that I saw active grandparents doing with their grandchildren. It made me sad that he was missing out. And, so were my kids.
Apparently, I was wrong. A couple of weeks after his death, my 9-year-old daughter emerged from her bedroom at midnight to share a drawing of him.
Included in the illustration were several messages and statements – one for each day since he had died. The most striking message to me was “I loved EVERYTHING about you.”
All that time I thought he wasn’t DOING anything with his grandchildren, he was very actively doing the thing that was most important to them. He was loving them. And it was all they needed.
