Between generations

Last night I was holding Loucee and she went to sleep on my lap. She can be quite a little snuggler when she's asleep, and I was enjoying the quiet and peace of it. I was kissing her hair and feeling her breathe while I could hear her two brothers and one cousin playing in the back room. They were laughing and enjoying themselves and I found myself smiling at how content having the grandbabies in my home makes me feel. I needed that content feeling, because while two generations down from my own were visiting me, two generations up my grandpa was laying in an intensive care unit. We have been so worried about him, and have had sleepless nights thinking about his pain, his heart, his hip, my grandma, his kids-my mother... Two generations up are struggling. My grandma puts on her brave face, but she has been sleeping alone in her house for one of the first times in literally a half a century. She is a pillar of faith--she KNOWS everything is going to work out fine, no matter what 'fine' is.

On one end of my generations life is just starting. My grandbabies have such a vigor and drive to live, to love, to learn. They are barely aware of the drama unfolding just a few generations up the ladder. They are blessed to know their great-great grandparents, a few might even remember them.

On the other end, hard decisions are being made. There is love, living, and even learning. They have been blessed to know those in generations down from their own, and back to their own parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, great grandparents...

So last night, it occurred to me. I am in the middle.

People everywhere I go ask how my grandparents are. They tell me to pass along their thoughts and prayers to them and their family. They tell me stories about my grandpa as their bishop, or that he sold them a car. Some relate stories of how kind my grandma is, that she was always the first on the scene with food when a family needed help. My grandparents are well loved and have lived well.

Last night I felt more on the aging side of the generations. I wondered if I have lived in a way that people would care if I was sick when I am 90. I wondered if they would have fond memories of me. I wondered how my grandchildren would remember me, as loving and fun? Would they look to me as a pillar of faith and strength?

I know this kind of thing happens in families every day.

I feel like a middle child of generations.