Granddaughter Mine

Our closeness has a sad component that ties us even closer to each other. We both lost someone excruciatingly dear, the same person who bridges our relationship –her mother, my oldest daughter. The passage of three years has mostly eased the overwhelming emotional convulsions; it has not quieted the longing for contact with our beloved person.

We utilize the fuel of sorrow (and anger) to propel us forward. My granddaughter will enter nursing school this November while I forge ahead in my newly retired life. Meanwhile, we reach across the miles with love and alliance, knowing and understanding, welded together by mutual empathy and respect. The pandemic kept us physically separated for two years; this week she flew across the state to spend a few days with me and to visit nearby family.

A high point in her time here was a daytrip to the ocean where we held her mother’s memorial two years ago. It was wonderfully clear, the sky piercingly blue, the water shimmering like satin. Always windy at Goat Rock Beach, it was not blustery. We couldn’t decide whether the tide was coming in or going out while we sat on a blanket near a driftwood log and ate our smoked turkey wraps and blueberries for lunch. We felt doused in happiness, contented to be together, delighted by the day’s beauty and the sound of the breaking waves.

Not looking for a sign of any kind, we were amazed when a very large sea crab emerged from the edge of the tide and made its way directly toward us across the sand. My late daughter’s sun sign is Cancer, depicted by a crab. Just as quickly, the receding water reclaimed the creature, leaving us speechless. We had brought a bouquet –yellow sunflowers, purple mums, and a few little blue buds on stems– to toss into the ocean in memory of her passing. As we flung the flowers in one by one, the sea gave them back, almost like it was a game. It made both of us laugh, reminded of her mother's playfulness.

Then my granddaughter wrote her mother’s name in the sand and together we watched the ocean gently erase it. Satisfied, we returned to my car where we sat for a while observing the glittering swells stretched out towards the horizon. A seal popped his head up –a final little Goat Rock Beach goodbye.

Granddaughter mine, it was an astonishingly healing, very good day.