My dear Ethan
Many memories have faded over the years, but I would like to share a few of the ones that I hold dear. I remember waiting eagerly for the news that you had been born. It was, of course, to be our birthday. I was nervous as a cat. I finally drove up to Gretchen’s for a bit just to ease my antsiness. I’m sure I had little Siobhan with me, but all I could think about was how LONG you were taking. I felt like I was experiencing every labor pain, more concerned for your Mom than for you at the time. I just wanted it to be over!! I wish I could tell you how I felt when I finally held you in my arms for the first time, but…. alas, I can’t remember that at all. I was just so glad the waiting was over.
Perhaps my earliest memory of your childhood (and the most painful one that I carry from all of my years as a grandmother) was when you were about three. I was sitting on the floor in your family’s condo in Penacook. You were on the couch behind me. My favorite thing was to beg or bribe my grandchildren to brush my hair. You were my current victim. However, you must have tired of the task, for the next thing I felt was a fierce blow to my head with a wooden hammer (I think). My eyes still water with the pain when I think about it.
I remember how you and Elim played with cars every time you visited my house. Most little boys play with cars the way your twin brothers do. They make engine sounds and design endless races and horrific crashes. But not you. The two of you would meticulously line up every matchbox car I had saved from raising Matt and Adam. You lined them up end to end like shore traffic in July. They looped through my living room and dining room and probably into the kitchen. (I had a lot of matchbox cars.) No noise, no crashes, just incredible orderly precision.
Many other grandchildren came in rapid succession and my memories include decorating Christmas cookies with all of you around my dining room table and celebrating each birthday that we had together with a beautiful brunch, the likes of which only your Mom could create.
One of my least favorite roles as a grandma was to help teach many of you how to drive. In your case, I’m not sure who taught who. You were so confident and relaxed that I was hardly afraid at all! You really didn’t need teaching; you just needed to fulfill the required hours, some of which had to be night-driving. I remember once wandering in the dark through Canterbury. I don’t think I had any idea where we were or how we were going to turn around or how to get back home again. But you handled it all on your own and managed to keep me calm in the process.
You had a way of calmly taking charge and doing what needed to be done. Another time that I saw that quality demonstrated so vividly was when some lazy delivery men dropped off a tread mill at your house and refused to bring it up the driveway because of a little ice. It weighed hundreds of pounds, but before I knew it, you had managed all by yourself to get it up the driveway, up the stairs and into the house. I’m still in awe of that feat.
Not only could you accomplish Herculean feats, you could persist in the most meticulous projects. I remember the most incredible, intricate cathedral-like structure that you built out of tiny hand cut pieces of wood. Every time I visited, I would love to see your progress. As you got closer to your move from NH to AL, I worried about how that masterpiece would survive. I think I may have bought you a covered tub to move it is. Maybe I just made that up, but I do remember worrying about it. That structure did not survive the move, but you weathered that loss with a grace and calm that is a marvel to me.
That move was almost your demise, Ethan. You were the “man of the house” when your Dad had to go ahead of the family to begin a new job and buy a house. The job of packing fell squarely on your Mom’s shoulders, but you were there to hold her up. I remember when your Mom called me one night to ask if I could stay with your younger siblings because you had a fever, had passed out in the basement, and needed to be taken to the hospital.
Once you were all settled in your new home, one of my fondest memories is of the hike you and I took through a forest. It was definitely the last hike of its type I will have in this life, and I’m so glad it was with you. It was unhurried and companionable. You were so kind to help me off rocks and over logs. After all, I was pushing 70 at the time:)
My very favorite memory in your new home was during my visit when you and I assembled the Family Tree mural for your Mom and Dad’s anniversary. It was a huge project with countless pieces and intricate design, not to mention that it was to be on the wall that followed the stairway. I couldn’t believe the precarious assembling of ladders that you had to work from. The floor was strewn with branches and leaves that were all numbered and had to be applied with care to press out any air pockets.
I remember when I could not find branch 64 (or whatever) and you looked down from your ladder and said, “Grandma, I think it’s on the stair that you are standing on.” No hurry, no impatience, no stress, just precise, focused attention to the task at hand. We finished that whole project and cleaned up our mess just in time for your parents’ return.
I can’t wait to see what God chooses for you to pursue in your adult life, Ethan. Your faith, your character, and your skills equip you for anything. It has been such a blessing to watch you grow into the man you have become. I love you so very much, and you are definitely the best Birthday Present I ever received.
Grandma
9/6/2020
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