Wednesday, August 5, 2009

To Everything There is a Season

I've taken a brief blogging hiatus, as I've been out of town attending my grandfather's funeral, an event that serves as a sobering reminder that everyone in the family tree is about to climb up a branch. The grandparents, as I knew them, are all gone, and the parents are ready to take their places. That, naturally, means that at some point very soon, I will be moving from the ranks of child (metaphorical: clearly a grown-ass married woman with a mortgage is not a child) to parent. If I step directly into my mother's footsteps, I'm looking at years of child-raising followed, possibly, by years of parent-caretaking.  Serious stuff. 
Is it scary? Yeah, a little. Do I feel like a wussbag for making this transition at 29, instead of, say, building a log cabin with my bare hands and raising six children and some cows and chopping cotton all day by age 19 or so? Again - yeah, a tad. 
So, loins must be girded and all that. I do wish my grandparents had gotten to meet the kid, though. 


  1. I'm sorry for your loss.

    I'm in the same boat. And on top of that I have a father with Alzheimer's. Yeah, not something I thought I'd be dealing with at 32.

  2. I'm sorry your grandparents are all gone. I'm with you (my last grandparent died when I was 25 - the rest were all gone by the time I was 14). It's hard to think of the things that your child will miss out on by not getting to meet the important people in your life.