There’s a misunderstanding that whoever is the lead parent does it all.
That’s never been the case with me. I’ve been the coordinator and delegator; I’ve been the arranger of playdates and the responder to emails. I’ve most importantly, from a work-life management standpoint, been the keeper of the family calendar.
But I’ve had help. Very early on we had nannies. We’ve had babysitters. We’ve had the most wonderful woman, G, in our lives for years; our home is her homebase in America and she comes and goes.
The constant, though, of my 17 years of being a father is I’ve had my dad helping us. Known as Grampy to my girls and everyone around our town, my dad has been the greatest grandfather a kid could hope for. This was not preordained. He was a very 1980s father. But for his granddaughters, he’s done everything they or we have asked.
His regular schedule was to come to our house Wednesday to Friday, but he was on call to come down more often. When my wife’s father went into hospice early this year, we called him, and he came down so I could join her. If my wife and I wanted to get away for a weekend, he would stay at our house.
Was his style always what we would have done it? Absolutely not!
For my girls, it was anything they needed but often – to our chagrin – anything they wanted. To be as well-known as he was at the local Dunkin Donuts, Starbucks and various pastry and bread shops took dedication.
But when it came to the logistics of our life, he was on it. If our girls needed to be picked up at school, he was there – his 2013 white station wagon, always clean, the first one in line. If there was a recital, he was there. If there was a game and we wanted to go, he would pick up the kids who weren’t playing.
A few days before Easter, my daughter noticed a local diner was blowing up on Instagram for its outrageous, sugar-packed concoctions. She showed Grampy. A field trip ensued – and he had his lunch picked out ahead of time.
On Easter, he went to Mass with one of his granddaughters and then to brunch with all of us. He availed himself of the ample and varied buffet. The club’s caramel lattes got rave reviews.
Then he got into his station wagon and drove home.
“See you Wednesday,” I said.
“Yup, call me if you need anything before then,” he replied.
When I couldn’t reach him on Wednesday, I called his town’s police department for a wellness check. They found him still in his Easter best.
It’s hard to fathom that Grampy won’t be coming down again. But there’s one thing I’m happy about: we thanked him often and genuinely for the love he gave our girls and the tremendous help he gave us. He knew how much he meant to his granddaughters and us.
