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I endeavour to maintain a clutter free, simple reading environment that takes just a few minutes to read a complete story. This blog is free for all. One way you could 'repay' me if you like the story you have read is to refer others to this blog and the specific story. I would appreciate that kind of word-of-mouth (or its modern equivalent - email, link, Facebook posting) advertising, since it is the best kind. Kindly do to the extent you can without feeling uncomfortable or like a spammer.

Thanks for visiting and hope you enjoy reading!

-Kannan

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Grandfatherly Feelings



He sat reminiscing, reclining on the couch. It would the first birth anniversary of the little ones. There would be a huge party, friends and family would come, bring a lot of presents and shower them with love. They would be at the stage when they would appreciate things with colour, movement, sounds, enjoy playing with things, smiles, being carried up on the shoulder and make delighted sounds. They would be toddling around. They would compete over toys, one had to get two of anything and still they would want what the other had. They would throw up unexpected delights, memories and funny antics with seemingly limitless energy that only little children can come up with and delight the hearts of grown-ups who can watch them for hours and hours on end without loss of interest or excitement. Pictures and videos were always taken and shared aplenty in these days of easy photography.  Awake or asleep, they would steal the hearts, mind and interest of some special people – grandparents, even more than the parents who had to attend to so many other chores. Grandparents, while helping out when they can, had more time for fun. They can enjoy the grandkids in a way they could not even with their own children.

He remembered the little dolls, from the first days of their birth, when they were tiny, a little premature and exhibiting such natural charm and beauty while being blissfully unaware of it. He had watched their progress over the next months as they grew, weathering tough challenges and only increasing in cuteness, energy and interest in the world around every time he saw them. He remembered their energetic kicking of legs against his belly as he held them on his lap sitting on the couch. They would be strong kicks sometimes, and if not held right, would feel like they might push themselves out of his arms. It had been many years since he had held his own children like that and they brought wonderful memories flooding back. The way they fit snugly when he held them, their new baby smell, their angelic beauty when they slept, their demanding company, grasping his finger with their tiny, soft hands with surprisingly strong grip and sometimes sucking on them – memories came by and passed like a train arriving and leaving a platform.

They were not his biological grandchildren, but it never seemed to matter. They were the children of the child of the woman he was seeing then. He had a vision and dream of them as one family. Once he held the children in his arms, looked into their eyes and faces, heard their cries and seen their smiles it was not even an issue, nor was there a second thought. He had met them, seen them, held them or played with them only a few times and on certain occasions, less than he might have liked, but it was always with the feeling that they would be there in his life for the future. He now missed them. For a few moments, the feeling was intense. He had to let it flow and ebb. The mind slowly convinced the heart to let go. It had been many months since he had last seen them. He realised that he had not seen them for as long as the period that he had seen them since they were born.

Once you give your heart to a child, you can never take it back. It is all over in a flash and indeed love at first sight. He had dreams of their growing up, taking them for walks and treats and calling him ‘Naana’ (maternal grandfather). He was still in his early 50s, reasonably fit and people often mistook him to be in his 40s, he did not look a grandfather most of the time, except for his grey hair. It was the feeling of love and connection with the little ones that made him realise what it felt like to be a grandfather, not what he had heard or read. In some ways, it was like the feeling of being parent – he had never truly understood it until he actually felt the love for a child, at an earlier stage of life.

He had his own kids who were younger. It seemed like he was rewarded with grandchildren a bit ahead of when he had expected. He could not have been happier. With this feeling, he had started to think on the lines of making his relationship with the woman he was seeing into a permanent one – from a partner to a life-partner. He started making plans to propose and take the next steps forward.

Alas, as they say, there is many a slip between the cup and lip. Fate and human affairs of grownups are a lot more complex and unpredictable. As fate would have it, his relationship ended. Relationships between middle-aged adults, beyond their first marriages, can sometimes be over as quick as they begin. It was probably for the best in the long run.

The sadness came from the fact that he was now cut-off completely from  the little ones as with the rest of the family. While their adult parents took their stand and understandably supported the grandmother, the ‘not-quite-official-grandfather-yet’ had no place in their thoughts. No one cared to consider his feelings for the little ones. He sought no legal rights. Only he wished that people were thoughtful enough and gracious enough to let him still have a connection to the little ones who had stolen his heart. Adults often, in their own pain, forget the pain or implications for others. Such is the world and life.

He occasionally thought about the little ones and had to move on with a heavy heart. It seemed strange that the human heart seems heavier when there is some emptiness in it!

While it was not an ache that was easy to bear, there was however, a saving grace and blessing of fate that he was thankful for – the little ones were too young to remember him particularly. They would never even be aware that he was missing from their life. They would never suffer even a pang of missing him. He was grateful for that.




Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2015
All rights reserved 

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