Once a Parent, Always a Parent

Dear Boo and Bubble,

Sorry to be so long in writing, but for the last while Captain and I have been making our way back to Sugar Mountain from Mt. Dora.  The dust has now settled, bags unpacked, groceries bought, and I can get back to one of my favorite things – chatting with you.

Since my last blog, the memories of your great, great grandmother Bethany keep swirling around in my head.  Perhaps the fondest are of her annual visits to 3 Lakecrest.  Since she didn’t live close by, there was never anything spontaneous about them.  Mamaw Mary always orchestrated a tea or two and made sure to find out about opportunities for Bible study groups or book clubs.  It was also the one time of year when Mamaw insisted that my room be straight.  I invoked a pretty unique technique – taking everything and stuffing it all under my bed.  As long as nobody looked under the dust ruffle, the evidence stayed concealed.  Some might have wondered what caused the elevation in the mattress level, but it was only temporary.  As soon as Bebe left, the room assumed its normal chaotic condition.

Bebe would arrive to great fanfare on the late afternoon train.  She always carried her “magic bag” over her arm, filled with gifts for me and your great uncles Bryant and Gene.  The bag held a certain mystique all the way from the station to home and we could hardly contain ourselves until she settled into her room and unpacked her suitcase.  The three of us children assembled in the living room sitting on the floor at the foot of a large wing-backed chair where Bebe sat as she reached into the “magic bag” and doled out hand puppets that she had made at Ripley House, an assortment of trinkets from Texas, and always cartons of Lifesaver’s for each of us. 

Of all the reminiscences surrounding Bebe, though, perhaps the one that seems to surface most often in my mind didn’t even happen to me.  In fact, it happened way before I was born.  It was early in the year 1945.  Even though the tide of World War II appeared to have turned in the favor of the Allies on both the German and Japanese fronts, battles still raged with no assurances that the conflict would truly end.  Granddaddy Schaefer, an attorney and member of the Judge Advocate General’s corps for the Navy, was stationed in Miami.  He and Mamaw had married at the beginning of the war and, fortunately, had never been assigned a tour of duty overseas.  At the beginning of the year, however, things changed and he received orders to head to Okinawa in the Pacific Ocean. 

Even though they had discussed waiting until after the war to start a family, Mamaw made a secret decision.  She wanted more than anything to have Granddaddy’s child, especially in the event that something should happen to him while in Okinawa.  Without his knowledge, she stopped using any birth control and sometime in late January or early February became pregnant with Uncle Bryant.

 With the confirmation, and after Granddaddy overcame the shock, her excitement grew and she couldn’t wait to tell Bebe.  She placed the call and the conversation went something like this –

“Mother, guess what?”

“What, Mary?”

“I’m pregnant!!!” 

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone.

“Mother….are you there?”

“Oh, Mary,” Bebe sighed, “You will never know freedom from responsibility again.”

Not exactly the glowing endorsement Mamaw sought, but no truer words were ever spoken.

Over my almost seventy years, I’ve learned that once you have a child, your role as a parent never ceases. Their worries are yours – their joys are yours – their sorrows are yours.  You wear all of these like a coat of armor and nothing can relieve you of it, no matter how old your children get.  This was certainly true for Mamaw and Granddaddy as I always turned to them for guidance and reassurance until they were no longer there.  They were the repository of my ecstasy and despair alike - I never let them be free of the responsibility, but on the other hand, they never signaled that they wanted freedom.  

As long as a parent is alive, you can still have the luxury of being a child.

Captain and I have always been and are now this to your mom and Aunt Bee until we no longer have the capacity.  Your mom and dad will always be this for you.  It is a fact of life.

There is, however, one thing that makes all of the responsibility worth it.  And – that would be grandchildren.  How wonderful it is to have to two of you where my only responsibility is to have fun!!