My parents first great grandchild came this morning. They told my father that they were trying and they told my mother a baby was coming, but they both had to leave before.
Sister hauled me to the birthing suite. I still have very tough responses to being in a health care setting. All those details.
They were treating baby like a doll, saying what every expression meant, what this twelve hour hold child was thinking. That made me uncomfortable, as I was wondering what this child was here to teach us, assuming I had a lot to learn, not that I already knew everything about it. The assumption and entitlement of normativity: you will be like us, baby.
I imagined the smile on my father’s face if he was there to see the baby. Children always brought out the brightest beams on him. He loved them.
He smiled that way, ear to ear, when he saw each one of his children after they were born, I’m sure of it. Pure delight.
And he smiled that same way up to almost the very day he died. Such a blessing.
I’m so sad I never gave him a grandchild.
But I thank him for everything he gave me and the rest of his family.
Thanks, Dad.
Callan 