Parenthood Redux

     It used to be so easy when they were little kids. The grandchildren. They came to stay for the summer, and my worst fear was forgetting one of them as I made my daily carpool rounds: science camp; theatre camp; sailing school; rowing camp. But time marches on, things change, and everyone starts to grow up. I've already "been there, done that." Raised three kids in relative safety with some pretty hard-and-fast rules about where are you going? With whom?  Stay in touch. (We didn't have cell phones in those days.) And we were a fortunate set of parents - no phone calls from police or emergency squads, thank God, altho' we did attend more than the lion's share of teenage viewings and funerals. The vision of families mutilated by death is still etched in my memories.
     Forward to 2012, and I now have grandchildren who drive - grandchildren who are more than 18 years old, and are very aware that in the eyes of the law, they are adults. Peachy. Except that they are staying under MY roof, and they have to abide by MY rules! And now I am alone, without the strength of a husband to back me up. It's scary enough to be responsible for someone else's children - even scarier when they are your precious grandchildren - and I'm just that much older and wiser and even more aware of the dangers lurking out there in the world. I'm not a total neurotic - really - nor am I a control freak. But I am a worrier, something I inherited from my father, over which I have very little control. And no one ever told me that parenthood, or grandparenthood, NEVER ends. I try to console myself with the knowledge that my driving-age grandchildren are intelligent, trustworthy people - but...but...but... there are deer, there are drunks, there are curves in the roads, weather conditions - and idiots.
     And there is no longer anyone to share with me the anxiety of waiting for the car to come down the driveway - or to be flooded with relief when the door opens, and a grandchild walks in, safe and sober. No one to snuggle up with in the dark once everyone's home and the household can go to sleep. No one to share the sense of gratitude that we are once again whole, with the comfort of nothing to worry about.
      This is a lonely, heavy responsibility - and it's at times like these when I miss my husband more than there are words to express. We were meant to parent, and to grandparent, together  -  and death has deprived me - us - of that experience. And I will never stop wondering why...