This little bundle from 1925 almost made it to the age of 88, which is pretty remarkable. It's hard to imagine parents and other older relatives as someone's babies, vulnerable, helpless, doted on and oohed and aahed over. I remember clear as day the moment when my 90-something year old grandfather (this baby's dad) was talking about his parents and he welled up and said how much he missed them. It had never occurred to me that this strong old man who took care of everyone the good majority of his life, was once someone's beloved child. At the age of 45, I'm only now just starting to really get the whole circle-of-life thing.
Now that both of my parents are gone though, I'm keenly aware that I.am.it. There's no one to take care of me in the parental sense anymore and it's my turn to, hopefully, be the strong, reliable, wise, respectable adult that my elders were to me. I'm all grown up.
As for Beatrice, I sometimes envision her as an old woman, and swear I can picture her perfectly. How beautiful her thick hair will be when it's salt-and-pepper, and eventually gray or white! I wonder about her as a mother, grandmother, partner, colleague, and friend, and hope I can prepare her well for each of these potential roles she will play. I sometimes mourn that I won't know her for many of these moments, such is the reality of becoming a parent at 40, but am seeing with clarity that increases daily that I will live on through her as those before me do in my body, mind, and actions.
