I Always Wondered, the Sequel

    My sister, Robyn, friend, Diane and I have a tradition of going to a particular craft show together every November. This year, we had barely started looking around before I noticed someone looking at me. It was MacKenzie, my granddaughter for the three years Tracy was engaged to her mother, Amanda. I saw Amanda urging her daughter forward, probably because she didn't remember me well. Four years is a much longer time to a nine year old than it is to me. I always wondered what I'd do if I saw MacKenzie again, now I know. I hugged her, probably too tight, and said, "I missed you so much." I told her how big she'd grown, but I did not look too closely, because my eyes were threatening to overflow. So I spoke only a little, hugged her mom and went on my way.
     Letting go of MacKenzie was one of the hardest things I have ever done. The summer before they broke up, I watched MacKenzie two days a week while her mother worked. After she started pre-kindergarden, I picked her up from school once a week and took her to dance lessons. Tracy and Amanda had a troubled relationship before she got pregnant. Losing their baby finished it off. We lost our first grandchild, and then we lost MacKenzie. Eventually I was able to move her school picture, a craft she had made for us, and the sonogram of "Peanut"  from the top of the nightstand to the bottom drawer, and months later to the cedar chest.
     I wrote my sorrow into posts and poems. I asked God for the strength to let her go. And it worked because this year, when her picture popped up on my Facebook Memories feed, I did not even cry. Seeing her in her dance clothes posing on our hearth with the jack-o-lantern we had carved together, evoked a warm memory instead of pain. As with Andy in the previous blog, I was relieved to find I didn't say anything to make Amanda feel guilt or pain, or dishonor the Lord I am supposed to represent. So I suppose I can trust Him if someday I see Lance, the homeless young man God allowed me to have as a son for two years. I always wondered what I'd do.