Over the last two years, my son probably cries every three months about the possibility that my husband could die, because three out of four of his grandpa's have died. In those moments I feel completely helpless, and answerless when he asks why.
But today I learned I don't need to know those answers. The two of us, me and my son went to the memorial day neighborhood breakfast. My son disappeared on me, while I was visiting with another mom. He's eleven, so I don't experience the same thoughts and feelings as when he was little.
When I found him, he was cooking the pancakes with one of his friend's dads.
My son's never been to a party where Grandpa H showed up and quietly went to the kitchen to help. I have memories of this, but he's never seen this. My son doesn't have memories of my dad, Grandpa W shaking everyone's hand before church and saying, "Hi. How 'ya doin'?" then answering "Fine thanks for asking." But I see him doing that before church each week.
I was also reminded of Mary looking for Jesus and He told his mother, He was about his Father's business.
My son has a legacy of good people to follow even if he doesn't remember and there is a plan for him. He just needs to discover it, and I need to let him live that plan.
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