The Crown of Aging
“Grandchildren are the crown of the aged, and the glory of children is their fathers.” Proverbs 17:6
“C’mon, Dad, put it on.” Sarah’s outstretched hand held the yellow party hat like an offering. “Go on, it’s a bit of fun.”
“I don’t want to,” Abe grunted before moving his wheelchair forward toward the window.
Sarah withdrew her hand, reconsidering her strategy. “It’s your party, Dad. The kids will be disappointed. They’re so excited.”
Silence.
If Sarah had seen her father’s face at that moment, she would have seen his eyes filling with tears. Instead, she set the party hat down on the table.
“Ok, Dad, have it your way,” she said with a measure of scorn at his refusal. “Let’s get this thing started before there’s a riot.”
Sarah turned and left the room to impose order on the children and the rest of the family in the living room. “Ok, everyone,” Abe heard her say, “let’s get ready. Grampa will be here soon.”
“Is he wearing his party hat?” a little girl’s voice asked. It was Mary, Abe’s 5-year-old granddaughter.
“No,” said her mother, “Grampa thinks he’s too old to be wearing party hats.”
The children sighed a collective moan.
At the window, Abe continued staring into the garden. He’d tended that garden for more than 50 years. It was a barren lot when he began cultivating it. He was a young man then. Full of ideas. Strong. Passionate about gardening and landscaping. Creative too in the way he’d shaped the land to his vision. Even now, despite his failing eyesight, he could see the children running about, his late wife Eva tending the roses, and he the vegetable patch. The garden had brought them all together as a family. It had been their playground and a place of retreat and refuge.
He recalled the many parties he and Eva had held in that garden with friends and relations. Camping out with the children and later, with the grandkids. It was a wonderful garden. Another world and yet so much a part of everything. A part of him. A part of all of them.
“What’s wrong, Grandpa?”
It was Mary, Abe’s 5-year-old granddaughter, wearing her party dress and a lopsided party hat over her blond curls.
“Are you sad, Grandpa?” asked Mary.
“Why do you say that, sweetheart?”
“Because you’re crying.”
“Am I?” Abe reached up and wiped away his tears. “Silly Grandpa,” he smiled.
“You shouldn’t be sad, Grandpa,” Mary said, “It’s your birthday.”
Abe nodded. “Yes, it is.”
“How old are you going to be, Grandpa?”
“I’ll be 80 years old. Can you imagine that?”
“Wow! that’s a lot of candles!” laughed Mary. “I hope Mommy got you a big birthday cake.”
Abe reached out and lifted Mary onto his lap. “I’m sure she did, sweetheart. I’m sure she did. I guess we should go out and join the others or Mommy will be angry with us.”
Abe wheeled the chair around and moved across the room.
“Wait, Grandpa,” shouted Mary, “you forgot your crown.”
“My crown?”
“Yeah, you have to wear your crown.”
“Do I have to? Don’t you think I’m a little too old to be wearing party hats?”
“No Grandpa,” said Mary, reaching over to retrieve the paper crown. “You have to wear it,” she said, placing it on her grandfather’s head. “Because you’re the King of the Party.”
“The King, am I?” chuckled Abe. “Well, then my Princess,” he continued, adjusting the crown over his thinning grey hair, “I guess we shouldn’t keep our subjects waiting.”
“I love you, Grandpa,” said Mary, hugging her grandfather.
“I love you too, sweetheart. I love you too.”
Michael Williams is a storyteller, author, artist, and licensed End-of-Life Planning Facilitator. He’s also a parent and grandfather who loves his grandkids. He currently lives in Hamilton, Ontario Canada. www.michaelwilliamsstoryteller.com
