“Please please pleeeeeease!” My youngest son begged; his small body rigid but his face stretched wide as his hope.
He was pining for an ultra-rare Mega Ex Charizard Pokemon card. He swore you couldn’t find them anywhere, unless of course you looked on Amazon and paid $50.
Yup. Right here.
I gave him the noncommittal mom look. “We’ll see,” I hedged with a sideways smile; not quite giving away the prize but giving away enough to keep the dream alive. It’s hard to argue a 6 year-old’s most impassioned birthday request.
On the big day, the family gathered at our house. My father hadn’t made a birthday or holiday celebration in months. Despite having a door to door ride, despite the occasions being basically the only time he saw anyone besides his home health aide or a doctor, despite it being the one thing he looked forward to – on the day of the event his mental and physical health always seemed to stumble, sometimes literally. But today, even with the countless reasons he gave me over the phone why he shouldn’t and couldn’t attend, miraculously he was here.
He looked terrible; hunched so low it was painful to see; every step a struggle even with his walker. His hair was disheveled under a baseball cap. He had meant to shower he apologized, but his legs were bandaged due to severe edema and he had a hard enough time managing without the added complication.
“Hi,” I greeted with a quick kiss on the cheek. He was already turned away uncomfortable, looking for a distraction from the physical contact that made him emotional, and the house filled with laughing kids sneaking cookies and adults easily conversing, which made him feel even more alone. Usually he’d go missing, sneaking off to have a cigarette outside or fiddling alone with the books in my library, but today he made an effort not to run away and hide his discomfort on the shelves, instead hovering near me in the kitchen, engaging in small talk which he hated and joining the family for cake, which he loved.
When everyone departed and only my immediate family remained, I watched him, slowly and methodically move into a position near my boys, hoping for a meaningful interaction. I had seen the move many times and this under the radar approach generally yielded about a 15% success rate. It’s hard to catch shooting stars, especially when there are 12, 9 and a freshly minted 7 year-old with new toys.
Covertly I whispered in my father’s ear and slipped something into his hand. The next time my youngest bound past, he stopped him. “Hey kid, you want this?” He tossed the words out casually, a throwback to his former cool self.
My son stopped short and his face lit with glee. “The card!” He exclaimed and jumped up and down, threatening to knock my unsteady father over; but in truth nothing could knock him down because my father was lit as well. For that moment, a set of eyes looked at him with reverence and love. He was the most important person offering the most precious gift. He was a hero again, like the man he remembered; the one who was young and strong who could charm people with a smile.
I watched their interaction from the sidelines, trying not to cry. Given all his conditions, my father rarely sees my boys, much less experiences a real Grandpa moment.
That card was a gift to us all.
Actual bonding occurring
Icescreammama 
This made me tear up. Thanks for sharing your story-glad your dad and son had a good day together.
Estelle
Thanks. It was one of those surprising good days.
This is beautiful. So glad you included a picture.
Thank you! 🙂
What a wonderful moment. Love the photo!
Thanks. It’s a rare picture of him as well.
I need a hanky.
Ha! Just a little one.
Made me teary
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glad. then i’ve done my job. 🙂
Good thing I was in a public place when I read this or else I would have been crying out loud.
I remember when your dad (my cousin) was that young and strong guy who could charm people with a smile. Time is NOT the great healer, it is the great stealer because eventually it robs us of everything.
Cousin Bradley! Nice to (sort of) see you here. And yeah, it’s been a difficult road he’s been on, but he’s still walking it. It’s not easy.
Who knew the power of the mega Charizard? Beautiful essay. So glad he was there that day.
Power to the Pokemon!
Such a heartwarming story. I really enjoyed how you wrote this as I have a clear picture in my head (even without the picture) of what all the “characters” in your life look, behave and move like. Nice one!
When I read these I really understand why I want to be friends with you. I feel very connected to the person you are , your values and how you face challenges. I am really glad I met you. 🙂 love p
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the feeling is mutual. xoxo
I was not expecting that! You set up the scene quite nicely.
And I’m glad they got some rare bonding time. 🙂
Thank you. It was a good bittersweet moment
I just cried a river. Damn you, I Mama! I hope you’re happy. Your dad looks so thrilled as does your son ❤
Ha. Yeah, life can be pretty sad sometimes, so that when you get just a little light, it’s so bright it stings the eyes.
What a wonderful gift to your father and your son. Even if they rarely see him, your son will remember and have this moment his entire life.
I think so. My son is still talking about it and I take care to bring his grandpa up to keep him present.
I love this. So much. Kind of teary actually.
Thank you. Life is not always easy but it makes the good moments that much sweeter.
Aw, love this! And I can relate to the Pokemon cards. Everything on Shane’s list for Christmas and Birthday in 2013/14 was a “rare” Pokemon card. I felt it was such a waste of money but it made him happy at the time.
Total waste of money, but honestly half the crap i buy is. at least they’re small and easy to put away.
Oh, my heart. Lovely post. I’m also right there with you in the land of Pokémon. Rare cards, ultra rare, legendary, etc. My kid is obsessed. But it’s sweet to see them happy.
Thanks. We are similarly obsessed. The annoying thing is that my older two still have their collections but won’t give them up to my youngest, even though they haven’t looked at them in years. Baa!!
Awwww… your poor dad and you. Aging is the pits.
Totally! But better than the alternative… 🙂
Yes! At least to us. My hubby’s grandfather is 101, and he told us he was ready 10 years ago.
when my grandmother died she told us, she had her bags packed a decade ago. if she didn’t go soon, it was time for some new luggage! ha!
LOL She sounds like a pistol.