When he was
born, he was his mumma’s little chubby piece of boyish perfection. She loved
every roll, every dimple. He was everything she had dreamed of, and everything
she hadn’t known to dream of. He fed and slept, fed and cuddled, fed and
learned to smile. And they were happy.
He had
colic and reflux, like many babies. He teethed, and got coughs and colds, and
bumped his knees. When he cried, his mumma held him in her arms and warmed the
hurt away with her love. And soon he stopped crying, and was happy again.
When he was
a toddler, his sister was born. Like her brother, she was her mumma’s dream
come true. The two of them grew and did all the normal things. When they
laughed, their mumma basked in the sound. When they cried, her arms circled
them until the hurt was gone.
Another
baby sister came. Perfection, again.
What a
lucky family they were.
Whenever
something scary, or new, or strange happened, the mumma and the daddy wrapped
their love around the three babies to keep them safe. And they were happy.
Then one
day, someone so very bad came along he literally took their breath away.
He also
took away Grandpa.
The whole
world changed. Days blurred. Police came and went. There were visitors, and
journalists, and people, all of them asking “why?”
The mumma
and the daddy stood in the centre of the maelstrom, stunned. And did the only
thing they knew how to do – they hugged their babies.
And those
babies – oh my. Their grief was bigger than they were. It made them do things
like throw temper tantrums, and stop eating, and say things like, “I hope I die
in my sleep so I can go to heaven and be with Grandpa.”
The mumma
and the daddy heard this and it broke them in two. But they kept on keeping on,
feeding their babies and tucking them in at night, and most importantly,
enfolding them with love.
And the
only way the mumma and the daddy were able to keep on keeping on was because they
too, were encircled in love. They were wrapped in ever-widening circles of arms
from friends and the community, and even people they’d never met. People who
sent messages and food and flowers and hugs, all of them simply sending love.
And all of it helped put strength into the arms of the mumma and daddy.
**********
Life
without Grandpa is different. There’s a shadow where there used to be light.
But his belly laugh resonates in his grandchildren. And his kindness shines
from their eyes. Without Grandpa’s selfless act, the family would be without
their Grandma too. No one can ever repay that.
There is
not a minute in the day when we do not think of Grandpa, and the act that took
him from us. It is something we have to learn to live with. Our family will
never be free of that hurt. But we are so very lucky to have each other, and so
many caring people around us. It is my hope that instead of living in the
shadows of grief, perhaps one day we might be able to help another family
through their trauma, as we are being helped through ours.
But it is
in honour of Grandpa that we will continue to strive to be happy. That we will
keep each other safe, just as he did. That we will hug each other and kiss
goodnight, and laugh loud and often. And remember just how lucky we are.
