Karen Nazor HillThree years ago on Sept. 12, I watched the birth of my first grandson, William.
Other than the medical staff, I was the first to hold the precious little guy, and it was while I was holding him that he opened his eyes for the first time, looking straight into mine. I know babies can’t focus right away but, nonetheless, he and I connected with that first look.
As tears ran down my cheeks, I promised him that I would make sure he was going to be OK. I made him a promise. Both of my grandson’s parents were unsettled and, to respect their privacy, I’ll skip over why.
But just one day before his first birthday, my family got legal custody of William. He has a wonderful relationship with his maternal aunt and her family, with whom he visits every other weekend, but it’s my oldest daughter who is raising him like he’s her biological son. He loves her and his two cousins, whom he calls sisters. And to put icing on the cake, they all live next door to my husband and me.
Sometimes it’s the little things that bring me to my knees in gratitude that my grandchildren, Tilleigh, 9; Evie, 5, and William are physically so close to me. At some point in my life, I must have done something really, really good to have received this amazing gift.
Late one recent afternoon, I was standing in my back yard, talking on the phone. I was in a deep conversation with my son who lives in San Diego. When I turned around, Tilleigh was quietly standing just a few feet away. She very nearly took away my breath.
She was a vision of beauty, love and everything that gives me reason to live. She was quiet, not wanting to disturb me while I was talking. But when I saw her standing there, I was immediately thankful that my granddaughter could just easily walk the short distance from her house to mine, just to be with me.
Tilleigh was born in Montana, and I saw her on only three different occasions during the first year of her life. Just one day before her first birthday, they moved to Chattanooga.
A few days later, as I relaxed in the sun while stretched out on a lounge chair, Evie walked down to my house, climbed onto the chair and snuggled with me. Face to face, we talked about anything and everything. I felt her breath on my face as she told me about her day in kindergarten. Her sweet high-pitched voice and arms wrapped around my neck sent me into a trance.
Last week on my day off, I took William to get his hair cut. Until then, I had been trimming his hair but, because his birthday was coming up, I opted for a professional cut. He’s a shy little boy, so I didn’t know how he would react to sitting in a grown-up chair with a stranger cutting his hair.
Turns out, he was perfect. He didn’t talk to the stylist, but what he did do was insist on holding my hand. So the entire time he was getting his hair cut, I was at his side, assuring him that I wouldn’t leave him – the same promise I made to him just minutes after he was born.
His eyes tracked mine during the entire cutting process and, when it was over, he reached for me and gave me a big hug and a dozen kisses. I melted. I share a bond with the baby boy, just like I do with my granddaughters, that will never be broken. Until I take my last breath, I am devoted to these kids.
My mother died last year with Tilleigh and Evie holding her hand. When it’s my time to go, if there’s a grandchild or, in my mom’s case, a great-grandchild, holding my hand, I’ll leave this world in peace and joy.
Contact Karen Nazor Hill at khill@timesfreepress.com or 423-757-6396.