Jenny was a "choice" baby, I chose to have her even though I wasn't married at the time. My parents were very supportive throughout the whole pregnancy, and my son was excited to be having a new baby in the family. This baby was impatiently waited for by all of us, but mostly by my dad.

Since I was a widow (who had evidently made a few choices I probably shouldn't have made and thus ended up pregnant when I already had a small son), my dad had already taken on the job of male role model. He would teach my son, David, almost any little thing he desired, and David knew that Grandpa knew a lot. That was before Jenny.

When Jenny was "on the way", my dad was the one that was elected to take me to the hospital, while my mom stayed home with David. Skipping past all the boring details, Dad was the first one to see Jenny, after me of course, and I think that was his first clue that she was going to take his heart and wrap it around her finger. He was bought and paid for when that little girl smiled for the first time.  

Jenny wasn't a happy baby (although you'd never know it now), and I had a great deal of difficulty getting her to go to sleep. Grandpa would just pick her up and bounce her, humming deep in his chest in that rumbly hum only he could make, and she would wrap her fist around his finger (and his heart), sniff one last time, and go to sleep for hours. I wanted to stay with my parents, just for those hours of sleeping Jenny, but I did have my own home and I did have to go back.

Jenny screamed much of the time. She screamed in the swing (so we gave it away), she screamed in the playpen (we gave that away too), she even screamed in the car--couldn't give that away, but it sure made trips in the car unpleasant. Short trips or long ones, it didn't matter--Jenny cried, the whole way.

We made weekly trips to visit my parents, so that Jenny could get some much needed rest (or was that me that needed the rest?), and David could have some private time with me during Jenny's naps. The whole time Jenny slept (probably because of the exhaustion of crying the whole way), my dad would pace back and forth to the bedroom, peek in on Jenny, and come back and tell us she was still asleep. I initially thought he was gloating that he could get her to sleep so well, but I later realized he missed her.  

Jenny and Grandpa were so much alike, it was scary. Both of them were quiet, both of them were very literal, both of them were calm and patient (once Jenny grew up, anyway!). What one of them was happy doing, that was fine with the other. They'd share, if you wanted to join them, but if you didn't, that was okay too. Where Grandpa went, Jenny went. What Grandpa did, Jenny did. She was Grandpa's girl, and she knew it. We all did. She would constantly go up to him and give him hugs, and tell David to give him hugs, too. "With hug sounds, David, like this, so he knows he's getting hugs!" and she would grunt while she hugged my dad. Hug sounds.  

David was more like me, more like my mom, so he didn't care at all. If Jenny was off with Grandpa that meant David had me all to himself. Both kids were happy with things the way they were.

While I took a trip out of state with my mother, Jenny stayed with Grandpa and my son stayed with his aunt. Jenny talked about that visit for years, telling everyone who would listen about the way Grandpa would let her give her own order in the restaurants (did they ever eat at home?), and she could have anything she wanted. There was no jealousy from either child; David also got toys, special things, special privileges, special trips. But even David said, "Jenny was lucky, she has Grandpa."  

For years after that, she would tell my son, "Come on, it's time to hug Grandpa, because he needs lots of hugs! But don't kiss his cheek because it scratches!" Jenny would follow my dad around like a puppy, and telling my son to come with them, because Grandpa needed hugs. With hug sounds.  

When my dad was diagnosed with cancer of the lymph nodes, we knew that it was only going to be a short time before he was gone. I knew that it would not be pleasant for young children to visit someone that sick in the hospital, so I gave my children the choice--go or don't go--and told them that it was okay with Grandpa if they didn't want to go. The kids were 12 and 15 by this time, old enough to know about cancer, hospitals, and impending death. My son, experienced with death more than any teen should have been, went a few times, and then chose to stay home. He had seen my mother-in-law when she was dying of cancer, and he knew it was unpleasant. But Jenny went with me almost every time, telling me on the way to the hospital that Grandpa needed hugs.

The night my dad died, the hospital called us to let us know that it wouldn't be long, and I woke up both kids to tell them I was going to the hospital and that Grandpa was almost ready to go to heaven. Both kids insisted on coming, they wanted to give Grandpa hugs, so he wouldn't miss them in heaven.

We made it to the hospital, and the nurses were kind of hesitant to let the kids go in, because she knew my dad was dying, but Jenny just walked right on in, and David just followed behind. "He needs hugs," Jenny said. And hug him she did. My son was right beside her, and he got his hugs in too. I think my dad was waiting for those hugs, because he died shortly after that. Jenny only cried a little, but David cried a lot, because he felt bad for not visiting more when Grandpa was sick. Jenny told him that it was okay, that when she'd visited Grandpa in the hospital, she would give Grandpa TWO hugs every time she hugged him, with TWO hug sounds so he'd know there were two. One from David, one from Jenny. David felt better after that. I did too, amazingly.

A few years ago, when Jenny graduated from high school, my mom wasn't able to come to the ceremony. She sent Jenny a card, apologizing for not being there, and wrote, "I'm sorry that Grandpa and I couldn't come to your graduation." I felt bad that I had given her the card before the ceremony, because Jenny cried through the whole thing. I just told her, "Grandpa knows," and I think she knew that, too.

Jenny is still close to Grandpa, even though he's been gone ten years. She always will be. David and I are very comfortable with the fact that Jenny was closer to Grandpa than any of us could have been. I'm glad, because for every little thing she does, I'm reminded of other things, things my dad would do. And when she gives me hugs, I know that I'm getting hugs from Grandpa. With hug sounds.

Author's Biography

I am a working (full time) single mother who lives in Michigan.  My children are both grown now, and working full time.  This leaves me more time to write, and I enjoy writing true stories about my family, my friends, and the funny, sad, serious, and giggly things that happen in everyday life.  

I've been known to turn trials and tribulations into "rainbows"--lessons and accomplishments that will help, somehow, further down the line.

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