Family History

Have you ever tried to seize the moment in an attempt to be the quintessential mom, ultimately resulting in a complete backfire? It’s like the image of you, donned with a cape and brilliant as ever pops in your head and before you can think through all avenues, you find yourself in a frumpy sweat suit and flipping through the channels of what-were-you-thinking.

To date, I’ve been lucky enough that most of my repercussion thoughts happen before my mouth engages. But recently I’ve had one of those moments and so far, I’ve been paying for it for nearly eight weeks.

You see, about two months ago I was driving Audrey to preschool when she arbitrarily mentions that her friend has a Pop Pop and she wishes she had a Pop Pop too. Seeing the opportunity to shed a little family history and carry on the memory of a beloved family member, I chime in with, “Well you had a Papa Audrey. Daddy’s grandpa was called Papa. He was a great man, he’s in heaven now.” I proceeded to share a little bit about Ben’s grandpa (aka Papa) and how he was an engineer, loved to run, and that in fact, Isaac’s middle name is in his and my Dad’s honor since their name is William.

Noting her excited expression and satisfied reply, I did a little internal pat on my back and commended myself for being such a loving in-law and brilliant mother.

Or so I thought. As my Dad likes to say, “no good deed goes unpunished.” For nearly the last sixty days, I’ve heard more about Papa and how sad Audrey is that he’s in heaven, how she misses him (she can’t technically miss him, she never met him) and that she wishes Papa were here. She’s unceasing about it. I’d say it’s calmed down to nearly every other day that she makes some comment about how sad it is that he died and that only Saylah got to meet him. At first it was sweet. Now, well, honestly, there are only so many times you can cast sunshine on the fact that a family member is deceased to a preschooler. After that you start to sound like a broken record, “Yes Baby, it is sad Papa died. But it’s okay, he’s in heaven with Jesus.” “Yes Baby, you would have had fun with Papa. When you see him in Heaven you can play with him all the time.” “Yes Baby, I know you miss him, we do too.” Over and over and over again.

At one point I had to warn Ben. “By the way, I taught Audrey about Papa today … sorry … you’ll see why.” She’s relentless on this one concept, seemingly mulling it over and over in her four-year-old mind. But, my favorite Papa comment – Ben said that at a recent birthday party, where Audrey was sitting next to the birthday girl as she opened her present (from her PaPa of course) (in front of everyone I might add), Audrey chimes out (loudly), “I had a Papa. He died.”  Oh. Brother. Needless to say, that was a little awkward.

Saylah has also boarded the Papa train. Just two days ago, now that (oh joy) she’s finally discovered cemeteries, she innocently asked me as we drove by one, “Mom, don’t you wish Papa was buried there?"  

Come on people – there is no good answer to this.

“No Saylah, I don’t wish he was there.”

“Why not?”
“Well, for one, I’d rather he be alive altogether. And for two, it’s better he’s buried near Gran so she can visit him. She misses him most of all.”

“Mom, I think Audrey may miss him more than Gran.”

And so we continue our weird little tribute to Ben’s grandfather. Who was absolutely wonderful, funny, smart, full of great tales, loving and is truly missed by those of us who knew him (and I am now assuming some who did not).

All this Papa talk did give me another idea though. One of which that I think probably won’t backfire like the first … or so I hope.

Since most of our family lives out of town, I thought it would be great to make a family tree in the form of pictures and hang it on the playroom wall. Each week we are talking about one member of the family. That person’s picture will be taken from the wall and placed prominently on our kitchen counter. Every day we’ll learn a little bit more about him or her. If the person is still with us, we’ll also write her a letter, draw him a picture, or give her a phone call. When we’re done that person’s picture will return to the family tree wall and we’ll chose another family member to learn about.

Bet you can guess who we started with …