Since my granddaughters birth, I have fantasized sharing my love of the beach with her. As she was almost 3 years old, it was our time.

Finally perfecting the fine art of carrying her on one hip while simultaneously dragging assorted buckets, shovels, water bottles, and lotions, we were ready for our journey. It was a brutally hot day marked by high humidity and a raging sun. I patiently explained to her that we would set up our belongings as close to the water as possible so as to take advantage of the breeze.

My first encounter with her reality, “No!” she commanded. “I don’t want to be close to the water. Let’s stay right here!” Wanting to make this experience positive and memorable, I gave in and we set roots in the blazing sun, the water a distant marker.

Our chairs set and our toys spread out, at last we were ready to settle in and experience the surroundings. “Let’s look for sea shells!” I suggested. Unfortunately, in our immediate vicinity, only small broken pieces were to be found. “I know,” I tried again, mustering as much enthusiasm as possible, “let’s build sand castles!” She agreed. The first obstacle was getting some water in the plastic castle shaped bucket. She refused to accompany me to the sea. Afraid to leave her alone, I walked backwards, my eyes never leaving her, as I quickly filled the bucket with water.

Back to our spot, I added the sand. Carefully, I tipped it upside down and told her to count to five and a castle would appear! She followed my instructions and we both held our breath, as I gingerly lifted the plastic castle. It crumbled.

Enter the uber grandmother. She must have been watching us for quite a while, most likely trying to hide her laughter. No longer able to contain herself, she approached our space. Holding a magnificent sea shell as an appropriate bribe, she began, “Do you want to see this beautiful shell?” It worked. Before I knew it, my precious cherub, had moved to the uber grandmother’s blanket, mesmerized by her extensive collection of unbroken shells.

But, that wasn’t enough. Before I could register what was happening, the uber grandmother began building not just a sand castle, but a town. “Bubbie, come here with us!” at least there was some loyalty. Reluctantly, I moved my chair and relinquished control to the uber grandmother.

I love your comments! Please send them to: Laura@realwomenwin.com.

This week my father turns 80. To memorialize the occasion all of his offspring will gather together for a two night celebration.

As the day gets closer, our panic escalates as we try to figure out how to best commemorate this milestone. In our desperate search-- ideas are quickly rejected. How can any gift, toast or party begin to express our love, respect and gratitude?

He personifies the best of “old fashioned values.” With a quiet yet sardonic nature, his actions always speak louder than his words. By way of example, he has taught us:

• There are no limits when reaching for your dreams.
• When you have an employer—your value must exceed your paycheck.
• There is no room for entitlement. You are never too important to clean the bathroom, take out the trash, or make the coffee.
• Go out of your way to make your fellow man’s lot easier.
• You must be able to add, subtract, divide, and multiply---in your head.
• Look at life’s challenges as ripe material for laughter; people are funny.
• Take what life gives you and make the best of it.
• Do not honor titles or positions. Honor character, goodness, hard work, and wisdom.
• Your word is sacred.
• Take pride in your possessions.
• Under all circumstances, you must be loyal to your spouse.
• There is no room for excuses or bull s---.
• You follow the above advice because it is the right thing to do---not to let others know you are right.

Finally, we conclude that there is not a single act or gesture that can adequately express our appreciation. So, we will hope that our presence will be present enough. As we anxiously await the day, we are filled with deep gratitude that this man is our patriarch. We are filled with deep joy that we are all able to celebrate together as family. We are also filled with that secret fear that no one dare articulate, “Please let there be many, many more birthdays.”

Mom Fell.

She tripped and fractured her pelvic bone. The ambulance took her to the emergency room of the nearest hospital, where she was admitted for a few nights and later transferred for a couple of weeks to a rehab facility. We are thankful. It will heal. She will be alright.

Friends and family call with concern. We assure them. “It will heal. She will be alright.” We then politely inquire about their families, their holidays.

Yes, it will be alright. “This too shall pass.” Yet, it is not alright. After over 35 years of making the annual trek up north for Thanksgiving—this year they were not here. Using all coping mechanisms available, denial, justification, etc. etc, the fact still remains—my parents are getting older. They are vulnerable.

I have shared the emotions of friends going through similar and far worse situations. They try to be strong as they travel with their mothers and fathers through illnesses, fractures and loss. I am empathetic. I really do feel their pain. I knew one day it would be our turn. I just wasn’t ready.

laura@realwomenwin.com

You said your good byes

As brave as you could or could not be

And you left

And your heart is empty

And you’ve memorized all the platitudes:

“You’re still her mother”

“Before you know it she’ll be home”

“Now it’s your time”

And still you grieve

And not just for the loss of your child

But, for the loss of part of your self—your purpose, your meaning

And for now you need to mourn and grieve and remember

And soon—the hole will fill

You will open your heart to new pleasures, new experiences, new meanings

And pride will overcome you

As you marvel at the adult that you raised.