one of the hardest parts about bringing seamus into this world was knowing that he would never meet his grandpa. it was a strange something for me to feel, because at this point i can go months without feeling that twinge of grief. i'm sure it's still there, ever present and lurking, but the feeling is one that i've become accustomed to in these nearly seven years. grief is just a part of me. it's so much a part of my story that i don't usually notice it's there until something significant happens. something like moving in to college, something like graduating, something like getting married or seeing my sister get married. those are the moments when i feel my grief. so, it's no surprise that the monster decided to rear his head when i had my baby.
there's something devastating knowing that seamus may never even feel the weight of his own loss. because he never even knew his grandpa david he won't realize what he's missing out on. and although there is some peace in that, knowing that he'll probably not deal with this grief monster, it's in a way sad. sad because he never gets to meet or know this man who shares part of his name. sad because he never gets to see the crooked grin or cut off jean "swim trunks". sad because he doesn't get to have a discussion about what communion means. sad because when the people around him talk about his grandpa david (and they will often) he will only have a vague idea of who this person was. all he'll have is stories.
so sometimes when i look at him and think about it i like to place him in the cradle that his grandpa made thirty+ years ago. he crafted a beautiful piece of furniture that his held probably a dozen different babies. it's a piece of furniture that has a legacy. it's been passed down and has withheld the test of time. it's a little bit like his grandpa david, himself. when seamus david is sleeping in that cradle it's the closest thing to his grandpa david holding him and helping him drift off to sleep.
