Well, as my page indicates beer being involved in my musings, the accompaniment of my first ever post is a nice IPA. Even after being in the growler for 3 days, it is still highly drinkable. I preface with this so it will be apparent why I may ramble senselessly on inane subjects…the growler is probably becoming too empty. So, now you know the origin of “pints”in my blog name, and paws is for all things furry, and half-pints refers to children. Remember “Little House on the Prairie?” Pa always called Laura Half- Pint, which I never understood. Was she supposed to be like a little drink? I think it elaborates the meaning in the books, but now I am too old to recall. But I do know I loved the show, and the stories. Anyway, these are all things that I feel strongly about, so the name just kinda came together. So I am sipping and thinking about events of yesterday.
Yesterday during the nice summer afternoon, my 19 year old son Danny turns on the tv. This really irritates me when it is a beautiful day out, but then again the tv in general irritates me. But it is his down time, so aside from the occasional screech from me to go outside, I let him be. He starts talking to me as I am doing things in the kitchen, making conversation difficult. So although there are a hundred other things I would rather do than sit on the couch as the sun pours in, I sit down on the couch. He flips through Netflix, and I hate Netflix. Everything they offer seems geared to the male viewer, (ancient action movies) and if there is some random thing I might like it is immediately rebuffed. Which will spark my irritation anew. Today though, I just lay back and decide to be silent as he scrolls about. I am starting to understand something about this movie time, something that should have been obvious a while back. A fast learner I am not.
He decides on the movie, “Hitch, ” with Will Smith and Kevin James. “You like Kevin James, right, Mom?” I reply that yes, I do, and quietly I commit myself to 2 hours of idleness. James is in fact, the funniest thing about the movie, and we laugh uncontrollably at some parts. In between scenes, Danny looks at me and says, “I wonder if Grandma saw this movie. I don’t remember watching it with her.” I say that I wasn’t sure.
The grandma Danny is talking about is my mother-in-law Mary, who passed away a year ago this June. A mind numbing loss for all of us, but in particular for Danny because they really were buddies. She lived next door to us, and so both my boys grew up skipping over there whenever they pleased. And seeing how Grandma never said no, rented multiple movies to watch, let them stay up late and eat Popsicles and little Debbie bars, they were there a LOT. But much as they loved the lack of boundaries, there was more to the visits than big free-for-alls.
Grandma took time to sit down. Yes, her tired legs probably needed it, but she never would do chores or fuss about when her grand kids came over. Her agenda was their agenda, and that never changed.
After a particularly corny scene in “Hitch”, Danny said, “Oh, Grandma would’ve loved
this movie. Chubby guy gets the girl, happy ending. Wouldn’t she, Mom?” I feel the familiar sting in my nose and eyes begin, and I say, yes, she would’ve liked it, honey. Another time he was trying to describe a movie I couldn’t place, and I said, “I think you saw that at grandma’s.” He nodded in agreement.
He said later, ” I was at grandma’s house a lot, wasn’t I? ”
Yes. Yes, you were.
It has begun to dawn on me that although there are a myriad of things to be missed about her, the movie watching pastime they shared ranks at the top for him. Grief reveals itself most clearly when you try to enjoy something you used to enjoy with the person who is gone. And it seems so hollow and pointless, yet by doing the thing you are remembering them. I know it’s why he will pick a certain movie over another, because for that amount of time he is with her.
I like the thought of that. I like it even more when we can laugh together the way they used to. The way she and I used to, too. I might have to break down and buy the little Debbies after all. The pairing of highly processed, fake chocolate and peanut butter product with my craft IPA’s could be the next big thing.