Day 14: Papa

I am very close with my parents.

And so are the kids.

My dad has always been my go-to babysitter.

When I was little, I had a very special relationship with my grandmother (my dad’s mom), and the kids are all super fortunate to have the same relationship with my dad.

You know that movie Weird Science from the 80’s?

The one where Anthony Michael Hall and his buddy make a computer program to build the perfect woman?

If there was a grandpa version of that movie, my dad would bust through the wall instead of Kelly LeBrock.

He is the best.

He was a hands on dad. And he’s a hands on grandpa. 

He is up for anything.

Even a mudrun.

He is all in, all the time.

Whether it’s trips to the water park,

hanging out on the beach,

going to a baseball game,

setting up Easter egg hunts,

or going to country fairs,

my dad has always been there.

He’s at all the kids’ swim meets, he’s at the cross country races, the basketball games, the wrestling matches.

My dad loves his grandkids so much.

SO MUCH.

He’s gone from just about daily contact with the kids to none.

So these past couple weeks have been really hard for him.

A lot harder than I realized.

I called my parents this morning just to say hi and also to see if they needed anything from the grocery store.

My dad answered the phone.

My mom was still asleep.

“What’s up?” he cheerfully asked, as he always does.

I was in the kitchen cleaning up after breakfast, and Number 7 was sitting on a stool right next to me.

“Can I talk to Papa?” Number 7 asked.

I told my dad to hold on a second, and I handed the phone to Number 7.

“HI PAPA!” she said.

He must have guessed the wrong name, because she followed that up with,

“No, it’s Number 7.”

There was a little pause.

Then she said, “Yep.”

While she chatted with her grandpa, I started unloading the dishwasher.

I wasn’t really paying attention, but after a while, I noticed Number 7 wasn’t talking.

I looked over at her.

She still wasn’t talking.

My dad likes to talk, but not usually for that long without asking a question or something.

I thought maybe the signal had been lost and Number 7 was just sitting there, unaware that the call had been lost.

“Is he still there?” I asked her.

She nodded her head.

“Is he talking?” I asked her.

She looked directly at me and mouthed the words,

He’s crying.

Number 7 wasn’t quite sure what to do.

She sat there silently, still holding the phone.

I waited a little bit longer and then I motioned for her to hand it over.

She said, “Okay… Bye Papa.”

And she handed the phone to me.

I put it up to my ear.

My father was still sobbing.

I wasn’t sure what was going on. My mom has her last round of chemo tomorrow, and as far as I knew, she was doing great, but my first thought went there.

“Dad, what’s the matter?” I asked him. “Are you okay?”

He continued to cry.

It took him a good thirty seconds to regain his composure.

His voice was shaky and quivering.

“I just miss the kids so much,” he said.

And he broke into sobs again.

It was gut wrenching.

I tried to make some jokes to help him regain his composure and in an effort not to lose mine.

He would get it together, but any mention of anything that was related to the kids, no matter how indirectly, sent him right back into waves of emotion that were just too much for him.

Ugh. It was really hard to hear him like that.

He mentioned earlier in the conversation that he and my mom had started a 1000 piece puzzle.

I told him to go work on the puzzle and get his mind on something else and to have my mom call when she woke up.

Later in the morning I spoke to my mom.

Number 5 asked if she could say hi to her.

Number 5 has an extra special relationship with my dad, and she asked my mom if she could say hi to him.

My dad popped onto the phone and said,

HiPeanutLoveYouSeeYouLater.

And then he gave the phone right back to my mom.

My mom said to Number 5, “Sorry. He can’t handle it yet.”

Number 5 had a little giggle over that. She understood.

I feel extremely fortunate that both my kids and my parents are able to have such close relationships with each other. I know how lucky we are.

I know this will all be a distant memory someday. And I know it’s only been two weeks.

But this morning was a little bit brutal.

Because my parents really, really miss us.

And I really, really, really miss them, too.