Going to the Milwaukee Road Depot to see Grandma off on the first leg of her journey back to California is usually one of the highlights of her annual summer visit: The hustle and bustle of the station, the loud ringing announcements of arrivals and departure, the tearful reunions and farewells, and of course the beautiful, majestic, magical trains themselves.  The very thought of it usually floods your heart with the memories of your first train trip, now nearly two years in the past. This time, however, you aren’t thinking of trains at all.

The whole way there you’ve been thinking about the talk you had with Dad last night before you went to bed. Earlier he had caught you and Mike making fun of Grandma: the way she talked, the way she moved, and the way she laughed. He wasn’t angry really and, as you know, Dad can get pretty angry when he wants to. If anything, he seemed a little sad. He told us we were being mean to Grandma and that she deserved better. Yes, she is old, he told us, and sometimes sort of cranky. But she is also very generous and she loves us with all her heart. Until this talk with Dad, you never really questioned Grandma’s place in your world. She was simply Grandma. You understood on some level that she was Dad’s mother, but this was too weird to think about, because as far as you could tell, Dad was always simply Dad. But last night he made it clear that Grandma had a special place in our lives and that it was time we knew it.

He told us about The Great Depression and how it was Grandma who kept her family together. He told us that our Grandpa, who died before any of us were born, was a troubled man who could sometimes be very difficult for Grandma (and everyone else) to be with. “This might be hard for you to understand right now,” he told us, “but someday Grandma is going to die too. But even after she dies a part of her will live on in you. In a way, grandchildren are a way for Grandmas and Grandpas to live forever.” Dad struggled a bit at this point to find the right words and what he came up with didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but what he finally said was, “Some of Grandma’s atoms are inside you right now. In fact that’s what families really are, people who share the same atoms, and the great thing about atoms is that they never really die.”

In the faraway future, you will grow to be older than even Grandma is right now, and you too will have grandchildren. You’ll learn more about the science of having children and grandchildren, and you’ll learn that, while he was choosing his words very carefully last night, Dad was being pretty straight with you. And, trust me, eventually the idea of your “atoms” living on inside your grandkids will bring you great comfort. You’ll see that Dad was right. Grandchildren are your ticket to forever. So when Grandma bends down to say goodbye tonight give her a special hug and tell her how much you love her.

Soon after she boards the train, the conductor will shout, “All Aboard!” And the huge train will groan and grind as it begins to slowly pull away from the station. Dad doesn’t seem to be in much of a hurry tonight, so don’t be surprised if he lets you wait on the platform until that last futuristic car on the train vanishes from view. Pay close attention to everything you see. You’ll want to remember this moment for the rest of your life.

“Hiawatha Homecoming”   1991   John T. McCarthy, Jr.    8-color silkscreen