Second Chance

I have heard happy grandfathers say that they would have had grandchildren first if they had only known how much fun it was going to be. Of course, that’s a ridiculous statement – no twenty-five year old would be caught dead wearing a cardigan, khakis, white tennis shoes and Foster Grant clip-on flip-up sunglasses. However, I hope a sport coat, jeans, brown moccasins and Ray Bans would be more acceptable.

I was in my twenties when my children were born, and now I’m in my fifties with two grandchildren. I can’t say being a grandfather is better than being a father, yet I am shocked by the joy my little grandsons bring me. Did I not feel the same when my children were little? So, what’s different between then and now, other than the fact that thirty years of sand has fallen hour by hour?

I think the difference lies somewhere within the passage of time; a man learns much in thirty years. Please don’t misunderstand me, I would not trade the years I spent with my children, but neither would I make the same mistakes again if given the opportunity to relive those years.

A certain order must be followed. Men must be fathers first and grandfathers second. As a young father I had no experience in raising little children, I had little money with which to spend on them, and only a small understanding of the brevity of time. I could have been a better father; fortunately my children have forgiven me my shortcomings.

Now I have more time to give, more money to share, and the experience to know the difference between what matters in life and what clearly does not. Age can be very gracious in it’s gifts if you will only receive them.

I saw the same metamorphosis in my father and his father. As they aged they left much of their old self behind and became less stern and more relaxed in their approach to life.  I am not yet willing to refer to myself as an old man, but I do find that I’m a better listener, more patient and less likely to lose my temper than when I was younger. Also, I am more likely to play on the floor and hold a child’s hand on a walk.

I didn’t know much about being a dad thirty years ago, and now I don’t know much about being a grandfather, other than it makes me happy. I loved those years when my kids were little– but it didn’t last long enough. I thought that time was gone forever – now it’s back again. I won’t take this opportunity for granted, and I won’t make the same mistakes twice.

I loved being called Daddy and then Dad. Now I am called Pa, and even though I would not have chosen that name, I won’t change it. All is right with the world when I hear, “Hi Pa.”

So, for me the answer to why being a grandfather feels so different than being a father: You take the best of what you did and you discard the rest. It’s as simple as being given another chance with your children through their children.

If only I knew then what I know now.