Poppy Love

Lately I find myself spending more and more time in waiting rooms. There’s always another appointment with a professional to discuss my ever-aging body. Granted, they are clustered together.  Like most educators, I schedule everything for the summer months:  dentist, gynecologist, ophthalmologist, primary care, and specialists for things I never knew existed. Heaven help me if I have a critical illness … it’ll just have to wait until the end of the semester! Over the past handful of years, it seems as if the number of appointments is increasing exponentially.  Today was physical therapy.  

When I arrived, I was the only one in the lobby.  Then an elderly man, dropped off by his caregiver, hobbled in.  Obviously, he needed physical therapy; me … not as much. 

As a new patient, he carefully filled out the requisite forms and questionnaires, paused and then asked today’s date. As a summers-off-educator-in-June, I can barely tell you the day of the week let alone the date. I checked my phone and reported, “23^rd”. The gentleman grimaced and then became more visibly upset.  “Today is my granddaughter Lauren’s birthday.  I forgot to mail a card.”  

Me:  “How old is she today?”

Him:  “47”

Me: (Quickly trying to estimate his age. Whew!)

Him:  “I remember the day she was born; how beautiful she was, and still is.”  (Then he began to tell her birth story.)

Me:  “Ah, she was your first grandchild?”

Him: “No.  I have eight.  She is number 4.  They call me Poppy!”

Me:  “Was she the first girl?” (Trying to determine what made this child so memorable.)

Poppy:  “No.”

Poppy:  “I remember each grandchild’s birth.  But since my wife passed, I have difficulty keeping up with the dates.”  

Me:  (I wanted to wrap my arms around his trembling shoulders and offer comfort. But doing what I do best, I merely offered unsolicited advice.)  “Why don’t you surprise her with a phone call?  I bet she would love It.”

Poppy:  “More than a card?”

Me:  (Tears welling in my eyes)  “I would give anything to speak to my grandparents.”

This is the truth.  A chance to simply visit.  To recognize a distinctive tone of voice or inflection.  To reminisce. To, perchance, hear a laugh or giggle.  I would give anything!

Driving home, Poppy was on my mind.  I thought about my parents, their devotion and love for their grandchildren.  Each grandchild unique.  Each special.   Each secured in their minds and carried in their hearts.  Unconditional love.  My mother-in-law was the same.  With only one grandchild, her focus was concentrated solely on my son and she proudly proclaimed to anyone who would listen, “He is so nearly perfect that it frightens me.”  

What is it about grandparents?

A study by Boston College, published last year in the journal “The Gerontologist,” asserts that emotionally close ties between grandparents and adult grandchildren reduce depression in both groups. Earlier research highlights the benefits for younger grandchildren that includes fewer emotional and behavioral problems and fewer difficulties with peers. It also seems that children do not mind disappointing their parents, but they do not want to disappoint beloved grandparents.

My childhood was rich.  Not financially, but with two sets of grandparents.  A trip to Russell, Iowa or to Itasca, Texas for a visit would send me into a tizzy of anticipation.  My son was blessed with doting grandparents who played checkers, Scrabble and read books with him – and who always had a coconut cream pie in the “icebox” or gallons of Bluebell ice cream in the back freezer waiting for him.

My wish for the world is to be enveloped by the love that is uniquely “grandparents’ love”.  And maybe, just maybe, this world will be a little less messy.

P.S.  Lauren, your Poppy loves you!