“Grandchildren are God's way of compensating us for growing old.”

-Mary H. Waldrip

I thought I understood how the other grandmother felt. How it must be so difficult for her, being so far away from her only grandchild. Only seeing him a few times a year. I put myself in her position and felt her pain and sorrow and my heart hurt for her. Or so I thought.

This weekend, she was in town for a visit. We didn't get to see Wes at all. Liz posted some photos on her blog yesterday. The other grandmother with the perfect boy. I have spent a lot of time with him this summer, so I feel especially close to him right now. Even more so than usual. And when I saw her holding him in her lap, I felt...sad is not a strong enough word. Anguish. Pain. My heart literally hurt in my chest. It HURT. I don't feel jealous. It's not that kind of pain. I am willing to share him. I know it's good for him to have lots of people who think he is the most perfect child on earth. But I missed him. I wanted to touch his face. Kiss his cheek and his neck. Hear him laugh. And it hurt that I couldn't.

And that's how she feels. Every day. Every single day.

I thought I understood how the other grandmother felt. But I was stupid. Stupid. I was smug in my understanding of her pain. I realize now I had no idea. I'm so sorry, Alice.