My grandson, Ryan, taught me that lesson earlier this week. We traveled to Middletown, Maryland on the last day of May and stayed just over a week to watch after our two grandchildren while their parents were away in Denver at an Air Force symposium.

The two that we stayed with are ten and five. We were worried that five-year-old Ryan would miss his parents terribly, but he surprised us and adapted very well. Both were very well behaved.

Each day began with playing several hands of Uno with Lily before she rushed off to school. Then the game switched to Candyland with Ryan. By-the-way, the kid is a pro at that game. I dare to say we wore a lot of ink off the surface of that game-board last week with all the Candyland we played. His game piece was the blue man. Mine was the red one.

We are blessed to have eight children in our family we call grands. Each is unique in their own way. Each is a special treasure that has added meaning to our lives. One is shy. One is a genius at songs, poems and jokes. One is a cheerleader. One excels in sports. One is the king of Candyland. One knows everything there is to know about firemen and firefighting. One is a quiet comic. One is finding his way in the world.

At this stage of my life I can say that my heart is full. They challenge me to be the best Boo Boo I can be. No one wants to disappoint a grandchild.

When my phone rings nowadays and I answer it, I hear, “Boo Boo I’m facetiming you. Take the phone away from your ear so I can see you.” They are smart like that. My, how times have changed. When I get facetime and texts from kids it makes me feel special. There really should be other things on their young minds than an old man in Kentucky. I am blessed, and I love them all. They have good parents. I wonder who raised them while I was away working at the mill all those years.

Last Saturday night I was telling my grandson that we were going to have to leave very early the next morning to travel back to Kentucky. It would be a twelve-hour drive, so we had to get an early start. I said, “Come give me a hug and let me tell you goodbye.” He withdrew to his mom and shook his head, no. I explained that I wouldn’t get to see him the next morning or play Candyland with him. “Don’t you want to tell me bye, now?”

He shook his little head and began to cry.

Finally, I leaned over, gave him a kiss on the top of his head and told him I loved him, and I would miss him, said goodnight and went up the stairs to bed.

We slipped out of the house and were on the road by six the next morning, heading west toward home. Around ten in the morning my daughter called to check on us. She said that when my grandson woke, he wanted to go downstairs and see Boo Boo and Nana. She told him that Boo Boo and Nana were gone. “Buddy, they left early this morning. Don’t you remember them telling you last night that they had to go home?”

He began to cry, “But I thought if I didn’t tell them bye they would still be here this morning.” Then he cried even harder.

It’s nice to be missed. Life is simple, complicated, and tragic for a five-year-old mind. Time will take care of that. Sadly, time will take care of that, indeed. The magic of withholding a goodbye to keep someone with you will evaporate into thin air like the taillights of a car going down the road. They both disappear into nothingness.

Oh, to be that young again where to believe something is true makes it so. But then I would miss wonderful moments like that when a child loves you so much they refuse to tell you goodbye.

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Rick Algood
June 11, 2019