David and I saw both of our fathers succumb to cancer within a year of their diagnoses, in their 50s. My dad went in 1994, at age 51, via the pancreatic variety, while David's dad was 57 when he died from lung cancer in 1997. My father was there to walk me down the aisle and give me away, but never met either of our children. I became pregnant for the first time just after his death. David's father got to meet and love our firstborn until he was two and a half. Then as before, just after the memorial service, we learned we were pregnant again. So Emily never met either of her biological grandfathers.
It was obviously a very difficult decade, especially for our mothers. But they carried on and pulled through with strength and grace, and now our family is exceedingly blessed to have had two new grandfathers grafted in (in '98 and '03). And grand they are. We are fortunate enough to live near David's parents, so Jason and Emily get to ride in the golf cart with Grandpa R (and he lets them steer it, too!), and do puzzles and play cards and talk sports together with him.
And this Christmas vacation with the other set of grandparents who live way over here in Virginia (a mere 3,000 miles from our home) has been a golden opportunity to gallivant with our other grafted Grandpa. My heart has smiled to see Grandpa W dancing lyrically with our six-year-old daughter, and playing poker with our ten-year-old son. We ourselves very much enjoy talking politics or technology or architecture or landscape with him, or playing a few hands of bridge as couples.
Perhaps the best thing, though, is seeing both our mothers once again with someone to love the most.
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