So tonight we celebrated my grandparents’ 65th anniversary. In July my grandfather mentioned this momentous occasion, and he never volunteers this type of information, so I knew a gathering was in order. We had a nice family dinner followed by lots of pictures and cake at my brother’s home.
Of course there was an undercurrent to the evening. Every one of us watches Grandpa, who is undergoing chemotherapy at the age of 86, for any sign of overexertion. We wonder if we’ve unwittingly exposed him to a cold or just overly tired him. He and Grandma stood at the end of dinner and thanked us for all our preparations and attendance. We noticed his pallor and hoarse voice. He refuses help out to the car and believes he is not old enough to use the walker I brought him.
So we soak up every moment with them. We hold hands with them and bring them cake. We hope that this won’t be the last time there are this many of us in the photos.
And in the midst of all this, after less than three weeks as part of our family, Russia helps Renaissance Man get everyone’s attention for photos and Canada braids my niece’s hair. A stranger observing the scene would think they’ve always been with us. They fit right in. I am amazed by how compassionate and flexible they are. I am thankful to their families for raising them to be this way.
And I love them more every day.