A Childs Simple Love

She hadn’t spoken to him in 3 years. Everyone had labeled it a “miss” communication. She stared at his weathered face and wondered if she was that inept at human communication that what she missed was simply too complex for her to grasp? Or was it just to simply human.

She had been 9 months pregnant with her second child. The doctors had put her on bed rest for fear of premature birth. It seemed that her body liked to start contractions before its time and when it was time for contractions, her body decided it didn’t like them anymore. She had miscarried the previous year and no one wanted to take any chances. Losing a child, however old, leaves an abyss in your heart that can’t be filled.

She called her father a couple of times previously. All false alarms. But he always came, with eager anticipation of the new addition to the family. This last time, she was told that her father had missed work. Something he couldn’t afford to do. He had bills to pay. He had other obligations than to keep running to the hospital. He wouldn’t tell her these things. But she was told. She assumed this was just someone caring about the welfare of her father. Later she would realize that jealousy had declared war on her life.

She decided to wait. She decided not to burden her father and make sure that there were no more false alarms. It already broke her heart to see how this proud man had struggled all of his life. He had worked hard from boyhood. First on the farm, then in a factory. Now he spent all his days making furniture. She never remembered him not working. The deep lines in his face and the calloused hands were enough proof that this now fragile man was not destined for a quiet, timid life. Little did she know of the greed that Envy and Jealousy would evoke upon her heart, ripping out memories and replacing them with Anger and Resentment.

She was wheeled into her hospital room, her new baby girl blissful in her arms. She was giddy. The anticipation of telling her father was its own euphoria. Here lay his new granddaughter. Such a bundle of pure love.

She dialed the phone. He didn’t answer but she was so excited that she told the person on the other end. She heard them relay the message, wanting to scream over the phone herself “She’s here! She’s here! Come see her!! She’s absolutely beautiful!” Then she heard the words that for the next 3 years would haunt her. “We will never be there to see this child. You should have called us earlier. She is not our grandchild.”

Silence. Pure, incomprehensible silence. Her eyelashes fluttered. Rewind. “What?” she thought. Time had stopped. She shook her head trying to wake up. Still silence. Something was intruding her thoughts. It was getting louder and louder. The dull dial tone of the phone and then the operator. “Please hang up and try again”.

She played the conversation over and over in her head. Could this have really happened? Did her father really not want to ever see this child? And all because she hadn’t called him earlier? The anguish, the torture, the complete utter absurdity of the situation simply broke her heart. She retreated back to a place of quietness. A place where she didn’t have to deal with the madness of humanity.

And for 3 years the man never saw his granddaughter. Now this beautiful little girl sat on his hospital bed. She was not scared of all the machines with their weird and loud noises or all the tubes and wires protruding from him. This man, lying here, was her grandfather. And she told everyone, the nurses, the doctors, anyone that passed by in the hallway.

She talked to the man, telling him of her favorite color, her favorite flavor of ice cream, her favorite story she liked to have read to her. She lovingly patted both of his cheeks as she kissed him on his nose and brought him a tissue when the tear escaped. She just simply loved him without jealousy and envy of lost time.

The dying man looked at his daughter and the sorrow spoke more than any words could explain. They held hands that moment, 3 years later. The father, the daughter and the granddaughter. A simple gesture bound with a child’s simple love.

04/15/06