I never knew my grandfathers. My paternal grandfather passed away before I was born and my maternal grandfather died when I was an infant. I have vague recollections of my father’s mother as a very old, very frail woman in a nursing home. I only had a relationship with one of my four grandparents. My mother’s mother was a feisty Boston Irish old lady who passed away when I was in my late twenties.
My father was the youngest of five, my mother the younger of two girls. I of course am the youngest of five and my wife, the younger of two girls, funny how that worked out.
Kev knew my parents. My father passed away when he was six and my mother when he was seven. My dad died 3 weeks before Drew was born and mother passed when Drew was one. Kata never met either of my parents.
All my kids were lucky enough to know and have good relationships with my wife’s parents. My in-laws were old, but really quite healthy right up until the last couple of years. The sad part is they are both fresh out of grandparents.
To date, as I’ve struggled to find reasons to keep moving through life I’ve focused on Kevin’s legacy. I’ve wanted to live my life for him, in honor of the life he should have been allowed to lead. I guess another really good reason is so any grand kids that might come along in the future will have grandparents to spoil them, and someone else to tell them stories about their uncle, and presumably their namesake.
Both Drew and Kata have been fairly definitive that they would each name their first male child Kevin. I suppose that will make holiday dinners a little confusing, but I’m sure we can work around it. We will keep lighting our candles, to invite Uncle Kev and all the grandparents to join us each time we get together for a special occasion. I miss all five of my angels, but every now and again, when I really need it, I feel them close by.