If we could read the minds of our children, I am certain it would be a most fascinating journal, filled with the unexpected.
This evening a lighthearted conversation with my 11 year old daughter took a most unexpected turn.
She loves my iPad, one of her more favoured past times is trying to guess my passcode. It was with sheer delight this evening that she declared she’d figured it out.
Four numbers (now changed!!!), 1958. ‘Is that a year that means something?’, she queried. ‘Yes’ I answered her, ‘it is’. Straight away she twigged it, the year my mother was born.
With that realisation, my eldest boy asked what year my Mother died. And then, much to my surprise, my girl burst into tears.
Tears for a lady she’d never met, tears for a lady who should have been a big part of her life, tears for me at having lost my Mam, tears for herself having no one to call Grandma.
We have always made sure that the children know all about their absent grandparents, told them about them, answered their questions, shared happy memories. While I have realised during special occasions and events such as Grandparent’s week that they felt a little left out, I never truly realised how deep some of their feelings ran; that my children could be grieving for someone they never had the privilege to meet…….