Catherine Sevenau

Opener of doors, teller of tales, family scribe.

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Letting Go

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Dim Sum and a Monopoly Card ~ It took a while but we finally made it to Yank Sing in San Francisco. I told the waitress it was my grandson’s 15th birthday and that this was my favorite restaurant and his first time there. After 12 baskets of Dim Sum, she brought him a dessert with a candle. This is what a happy 15-year-old looks like. After, we walked over to the Ferry Building, I bought fresh mushrooms and he flirted with the salesgirl. All in all, it was a perfect day. He wants to go back. I told him I had to sell a house first to pay for it. It’s stunning how much a teenage boy can eat.

15th birthday 2018

This was also my gift to him: “You and your sister have spent nearly every Friday night with me for the past six years, and you for five years before that. As you are now fifteen, I don’t imagine you’ll be hanging out with me anymore. High school, basketball, buddies, and girls are replacing family. It’s okay, I get it. So here: I’m giving you a Get Out of Jail Free card with no need to feel obligated or guilty. I love you and I’m grateful for all the time we’ve spent together. I set you free.”

And you know what happened? I haven’t seen him since, or his sister; apparently she got sucked into his tailwind. As she now rides her bike to and from grammar school I’m no longer needed to pick her up, and they are old enough to stay home on their parents’ date night. I thought I’d have her for a while, but she too has flown my coop. Ah, my little chickadees, I’m doing my best not to be broken-hearted, but my shell is more than a little cracked.
March 2018

Coming and Going ~ my grandson and son. We were in Carmel for a grief-filled memorial for my brother’s 18-year-old granddaughter, who’d taken her life just before Christmas.

Written by my daughter-in-law Brooke: “We stepped out of the church into the rain. My heart, so blown open by the memorial service for Natalie, and I saw my boys walking away on a rainy Saturday in January. Love, the only thing that mattered at that moment. That and how time slips through our fingers whether we like it or not. I called Satchel’s name and snapped a photo. And I think I captured a moment in time, this moment in our life — how it feels to love and let go at the same time.”

From Matt: “This picture really captures so much with him wearing my sport coat and me walking the other way in the crosswalk. He’s slowly leaving us as a boy and I’m learning to let him go. Bittersweet.”
January 2019

Dec 2018

Wild Blue Yonder ~ I’m glad I’ve penned these stories over the years; it’s kept these two close to me. My grandson is nearly a young adult: driving, girlfriends, considering college. My granddaughter, though only 11, is also moving away into her own older being. Both are engaging kids, and I’m fortunate that we’ve lived in the same town so I could participate in their growing up. They know right from wrong, are happy, healthy, and intelligent. They have a keen sense of humor (they get that from me), physically brave (they don’t get that from me), and are generous, thoughtful, and authentic. They care about animals and have a love of family (they get that from their mother), and are athletic, lionhearted, and have an intimacy with nature (which they’ve gleaned from their father). And I so appreciate that they do not have helicopter parents who constantly hover over them; it lets the kids find their own way in the world and allows me to keep my tongue in check.

Nonetheless, I do miss them. I miss my little broke friends who thought I had a money tree in the back yard, miss finding Legos in the crevices of my couch, miss getting new artwork for the side of my refrigerator. I miss her gently tweaking my old skin while watching Harry Potter with them on my computer. I miss making her cheese quesadillas and him chicken tacos, baking chocolate chip cookies with them, making omelets and soup and smoothies together. I feel the loss when I spy their toothbrushes in the bathroom drawer alongside mine. Yes, I see them at family gatherings and we text and email, and yes, I could watch a Harry Potter movie by myself, but it’s not the same. And in the same breath, there would be something weird about one’s 15-now-16-year-old grandson spending Friday nights with his grandmother. So I trust that all is as it should be, crank up the sound, and tap my foot in time to the music…

“It’s time to move on, time to get going
What lies ahead, I have no way of knowing
But under my feet, baby, grass is growing
It’s time to move on, it’s time to get going.”
                           —Tom Petty

August 2019

My grandson’s (age 8) first poem, November 2001. I too am filled with thankfulness:

© 2018, 2019. Catherine Sevenau.
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Comments

  1. Cathy, while we were recovering from our earthquakes (awesome things) it helped a lot to read your stories about the grandkids; reminded me of ours, and boy, do we have a lot. We don’t get to see a lot of ours, I’m frustrated to say, but it is great to compare “life with teenagers.”

  2. I love you. Thanks for all your stories, someday you should write a novel or a fiction story about real estate.

    • Gordon, I love you too, more than you can imagine. One of the greatest gifts that’s come from writing our family story was getting to know and be with you. I’m blessed that you are my brother. I send you a giant hug on this birthday of mine. And no, I won’t be writing about real estate. Nearly everyone is still living. You get in less hot water when they’re not.

  3. I’ve loved these groups of grandkids stories. They really touch the heart and you tell them so well.
    Thanks so much for sharing as they brought laughs and tears and shown lots of love.

    • Thank you Marian. I know you’ve heard and read many of them before. When I’m really old, I won’t have to tell the same story over and over because I already have.

  4. So beautiful, sad and hopeful…..May they make the world a better place, as you have, and I hope you’ll share bits of their lives from time to time now that we know them so well!

  5. Cathy, I love your writings. They make me wish I could remember the past as you do so well and put it on paper as well as you do. Never quit writing because you are an outstanding writer.

    • Thank you Jim. I write most of the stories as they happen. When I wrote the memoir, I used the memories of my siblings. I also started it many years ago when I had a better memory!

  6. Catherine this is so beautiful. Every time I read your writing my heart warms, so much. I always think of my adult children when I hear the song “Ramble On,” by Led Zeppelin. Your grandchildren, you, your family, are gorgeous in every sense of the word. WordPress won’t let me “like” your blogposts, but I like them so much!

    • Thank you Rachel. I’m glad the stories have touched you, and sad they’ve come to an end. I suppose I could make up stuff and pretend like the kidlets are still around, but I’m not good at writing fiction. Ah well. Maybe the muse will inspire me and something else will arise.

  7. Your grandkidling stories have a texture and juicyness to them that’s vivid, grand and intimate. I sink into them and feel as if I know your family, at least a bit. It’s awesome to imagine these two out in the world, spreading love and peace and wisecracks. Definitely reflecting a bit of you. Thanks to you (and them) for sharing.

  9. I’m crying. It’s like bereavement. How I love these stories. Thank you so much for sharing your family with us. xo Jette