"DP" and Me

DP and I became a "grandfamily" about three years ago. We are learning all about readjustment: me as a parent--again, him as part of a "new" family. Each day we find our little blessing in the storm.









Sunday, August 21, 2011

We made it!

I was up at 6 this morning, stumbling around the house. He woke up at 6:45, up and perky! Around 7:30 we headed out and got to the boarding and registration site in about 20 minutes. So many parents and kids---and DOGS! Although I tried to remember everything, I forgot to tag his luggage and there were at least 10 other bags looking exactly the same. So I told the camp counselor DP had a hair brush in the top of the case with his name on it and gave the counselor the ID tag.

There he goes. So far, it hasn't hit me yet.
DP boarded the bus and sat in the back with some newly found friends---also first timers.  Although the windows were darkened and I could only see shadowy images, I would know that head anywhere.  I stood there waving long before the bus took off, blowing kisses, saying I love you.  Other parents were hugging their kids and loading them with kisses, I could only assume they were "first timers," too.

Today reminded me of the first few summers I put my daughters on the plane to Texas to spend some time with their dad. This was before all the security. I would walk them to the boarding gate and "help the pilots" take off. Once the plane was safely airborne, I watched from the window until I was sure the plane was "headed in the right direction" then say a little prayer and go home. I teared up then, too. This morning, at breakfast, DP said grace as usual, but this time he added "And dear Lord, thank you for the three years I have been with Nana. Watch over us both while I am gone and keep us safe." 

 
And there goes the bus. Now it hits me.

The bus pulled away, turned the corner, and was out of sight and I was still standing there. The parents were leaving and I'm still standing there alone in the lot, just standing and watching...just in case someone forgot something.

On the way home, a sad song came on the radio. I did an "ugly cry." What will I do when he's off to college? Before he came to live with me, it was hard to imagine him living here 24/7; now I can't imagine life in the house without him. 

The silence is deafening.

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