From the beginning, Dalton has had his papa wrapped around his finger.  To be quite honest, all of my children have.  I should have known Tommy would be one of the greatest grandparents ever when I saw Colton propped in the crook of his arm as he mowed his yard on July 4th, 1996.  Colton was barely over 24 hours old.  I remember scanning through my “What to Expect the First Year” book to see if that was too much for a new baby.  I never found anything to say it wasn’t good for a newborn, nor did I find any chapter that prepared me for the impact that a grandparent can have on their grandchild’s life.  To be quite honest, it wouldn’t have mattered.  I learned quickly that I was going to have to share my children with Tommy.  A lot.  And I loved it.

Prone to accidents early in his life, Dalton has kept all of us on our toes.  Not even a year old yet, Dalton fell out of my step-father’s van and broke his leg.  Tommy got there quickly to comfort his baby.  Stuck in little cast for several weeks, Tommy would take DD on “walk-a-bouts” in the neighborhood and around his house.  When Dalton was three years old, we took a vacation to my aunt’s house in Texas.  While walking along the seawall, DD slipped into the lake without a life jacket.  I had taken my eye off of him and never even saw the exact place he went under the surface.  We had nothing to go on except for the ripples in the water.  Somehow my step-mother had seen where Dalton fell in and she instinctively jumped in.  Seeing her grab his body out of the water and set him back up upon the land had taken my breath away and it made me feel fear like I had never experienced it before.  After making sure DD was going to be okay, he insisted we go into the house and call Papa.  I watched his little hand clutch the big phone and in broken speech Dalton told his papa, “Papa… papa… I fell in da yake, but I did not die.”  I prayed Tommy wouldn’t drive down to Texas and try to bring him back to Augusta after that.

Dalton’s mishaps didn’t stop there.  Around the age of 5, we were vacationing in Arkansas when his cousin accidentally poked him in the eye with the hot end of a stick while they were roasting marshmallows.  In severe pain and unable to see, Dalton screamed like heck as we drove to see an eye specialist on a Sunday.  The only reason we were able to get into this guy on a Sunday was because Tommy panicked and called in a favor with an out of town friend of Dr. Crum’s.  He recovered just fine.  At age 8, we were down at Grand Lake when Dalton was viciously attacked by a dog.  He was bit in the face multiple times.  He had to receive numerous stitches in his mouth and nose.  As he laid in the hospital room being stitched up, Colton and Keely watched him scream in pain as tears of their own flowed down their cheeks.  Naturally, Tommy and Peggy had to come to the lake to see if he was okay in person.

There were other little emergencies in Dalton’s accident-prone life, but you get the point.  His papa was always a phone call away and no distance was ever too far if he was needed.  Dalton and Tommy were inseparable for 13 years.  He spent so many nights as papa’s house that he had his own bed right beside Tommy and Peggy’s bed.  Their satellite tv was full of his recordings and they “knew better” than to delete a single episode because Dalton would know.  He had his place on the sofa.  He rode in the front seat of papa’s jeep as Peggy took the backseat, “respectfully.”  Dalton made their grocery bill triple the amount it should be for a retired couple.  He left his toys, cards, notebooks, and anything else in specific spots at their house and he would make sure papa didn’t let Peggy move them until he returned.  It disgusted me at times.  He reminded me of this little prince that sat upon a throne at his grandparents house and his papa was his little servant.  All he had to do was walk in, plop down on the sofa, fling his shoes wherever they would land, change the channel from Fox News to Family Guy, and watch as Tommy would start serving him his Eggo waffles and bacon.  After awhile, Dalton would venture out in their neighborhood and hang out with his friends and rarely tell anyone his whereabouts.  Like a stray dog, he would meander back into their house hours later and tell Tommy to drive him home.  Naturally, they would stop at McDonald’s and DD would have his second dinner.  That would be roundabout 9pm.  9 times out of 10, Dalton would walk in my house holding his sack of food and his shoes as his “peasant” papa would follow him clasping his Dr. Pepper and backpack.  After papa left, Dalton would be sure to wait until I was totally relaxed and ready for bed and then tell me he needed help with his homework.

From the beginning to the end, Tommy has been there for Dalton.  He cried as DD cried when he had to leave him at pre-school.  Promising to buy him treats and toys, Tommy would bribe Dalton through every bump in the road.  It drove me nuts.  The Tuesday before he died, DD asked his papa to not remind me that he had baseball practice because he was certain I had forgot.  Of course, Tommy did his bidding.  Part of me wonders if that was part of God’s plan – to allow him one more day with his grandpa.  I plan on asking God about that after I make it to Heaven.

I can still hear Tommy’s cries in the hospital after the ER doctor said there was nothing else he could do.  Through my own anguish, I watched that man’s heart rip in two.  Dalton was his baby, his grandson, his best friend.  DD’s papa loved all of his grandchildren equally, but there was something between those two that surpassed a typical grandfather/grandchild bond.  Tommy hasn’t been the same person since November 15, 2014 and I suspect part of him never will.  Sometimes I don’t recognize the look in his eyes.  Then I stare at my own eyes reflecting back in the mirror, and I understand that look completely.  It is grief.  And if you look hard enough at any of us, you will see it too.

Being a parent is tough but rewarding.  We want to discipline our kids and teach them to become responsible adults.  Grandparents don’t play by the same set of rules.  They spoil them and return them.  Before the accident, I scoffed at the idea and was often reduced to simply shaking my head and sighing at Dalton’s papa.  Today I feel nothing but gratitude.  A grandparent’s role is different from a parent’s role and that’s how it should be.  How blessed my kids have been to be so loved by their grandparents.  After all, isn’t love what it’s all about anyway?

“What children need most are the essentials that grandparents provide in abundance.  They give unconditional love, kindness, patience, humor, comfort, lessons in life.  And, most importantly, cookies.”  – Rudolph Giuliani