To lives well-lived and of life yet to be lived

Though he desperately wants her to do so, my daughter can’t pick up her rambunctious 19-month-old after her recent C-section. Instead my wife and I pick him up and hand him to my daughter as she sits and feeds her new son — our newest grandson — born this past Thursday —all seven pounds of him. Even though we raised three of our own, we’ve renewed our amazement at how small, yet perfect, he is.

The 19-month-old doesn’t sit with our daughter for long. Only long enough, it seems, to gain confidence that he still matters. Soon he’s groaning to get down to continue exploration of his expanding world.

I slept four hours with a two-day old baby on my chest last night. More importantly and better yet, blessedly, he slept fours, too.

Better for me but mostly better for our daughter with whom we are staying in Savannah, Ga. She needs the rest after her surgery.

After the onslaught of relatives leaves her home in about two weeks, she’ll be on her own, effectively a single mom with two children in diapers, since her husband is deployed for training with the U.S. Army prior to his impending fourth combat tour.

I can only imagine the challenges she will face in caring for her sons. Yet, in the midst of the strain of raising two children more or less on her own until her husband returns from Iraq, I hope our daughter can pause to marvel at the potential in these small boys.

In our nation, at this time, because of the blessings of their health and opportunities and because of their unique (but ripe for development) skills and capabilities, they can do and be anything they desire. And we’ll need them to be strong and capable to help us solve the challenges our nation is sure to face in 2031, when they’ll be 21 and 22 years of age.

If I sound like I’m gushing over the birth of our latest grandson, I suppose I am. I’m so hopeful for the possibilities his now six-day life represents. Even after 57 years of life, I am still amazed at the miracle of his birth.

Another miracle is the broad range life can represent if it is lived to its fullest. This past week for me has been an interesting study in that range. Just a week ago I was in Florida helping with "end-of-life" decisions of my in-laws.

More than 100 years prior to 2031, my father in-law, Chief Petty Officer Charlie Burke, was born in New York City in 1925. A chief hospital corpsman and veteran of the World War II Normandy invasion, he served more than 20 years in the U.S. Navy and through two of our nation’s wars.

Last night, I slept with a 2-day-old baby on my chest. Less than a week earlier I helped move my mother and father in-law into assisted living. I experienced life’s beginning to near life’s end.

My in-laws moved into what is effectively a motel room from the spacious apartment they had lovingly called home for many years. Giving up the majority of their possessions because they would not fit into their new living spaces was, I’m sure, hard enough.

But giving up another vestige of their freedom they fought so hard to retain for so many years through so many challenges like the Great Depression, World War II, Korea, raising four children (three in diapers at the same time) in a small trailer at Cherry Point, and the death of spouses was, I’m sure, all the more difficult.

But like most of their "Greatest Generation," the complaints of giving up possessions and freedom were felt but not openly expressed. We could see it in their faces but rarely heard a discouraging word.

I hope at this, the twilight of their lives, they see the value in their lives so well-lived regardless of the feelings of loss they are now experiencing. Their lives in 1925 had so much potential. And they lived up to that potential in so many ways.

This week has been a dichotomy, but one filled with hope and promise. On the one end, my in-laws moving into what is likely their last home, preparing for the Great Beyond. On the other end, a brand new grandson, the great beyond of a life yet to be lived still ahead of him.

And the lives of my in-laws an example — yes also a miracle — of lives well-lived and an example I hope our newest grandson will follow on Veterans Day in 2031.

Barry Fetzer is a retired Marine whose column appears in the Havelock News every other week. He can be reached at fetzerab@ec.rr.com.