Hopes and happiness for a handsome redhead

New Chapter

Stephanie Jordan

To My Sweet Grady, I wrote a letter like this when your sister was born.

Of course, I wrote that letter to Tilly a month after she was born, and here we are approaching your second birthday, and I’m just now putting my thoughts, hopes and wishes for you down on paper.

Your first instinct may be to think that in being the second child, that you are less important, given the timing of this letter. But the truth is, all the things I wish for her are the same things I wish for you.

I wish for you a life absent of heartache and disappointment, even though I know that is an impossibility. I wish you to grow into a man of character and accomplishment. And I wish and hope in so many ways that your dad and I can be an example of how to navigate life in success and failure and in hope and heartache.

My delightful little boy, what a surprise you have been in my life. Starting with your looks – a head full of blazing red hair met with the brightest, most brilliant blue eyes. You are a sight that draws people in. I guess this is why any time I wipe your face, brush your teeth or comb your hair you tell me, “I handsome.” This world has made sure to let you know that your red hair is truly worth marveling, and I never would have imagined that hair could garner so much attention from complete strangers.

While it’s said that looks only take you so far, I’m sure your charm and personality will carry you the rest of the way. You are funny without meaning to be. When we stand beside your bed at night and I begin to sing you a lullaby like “Twinkle, Twinkle,” you gently cup my face in your little hands, look me dead in the eye and say, “No, mama,

‘Dee and Wide’” with the greatest amount of sincerity a 20-month-old can muster. I would sing that song to you a million times over just to have this moment with you over and over again for forever.

And although redheads are said to have fierce tempers, which at times you like to exhibit, for the most part you are a laid back and happy boy who’s not easily rattled by the worries of life. When you were 8 months old and beginning to pull up on everything, you pulled up on a chair only for it to topple over and knock out one of the only two teeth in your mouth.

I was devastated. I cried long and hard over that tooth. But after the initial shock, you didn’t cry at all. You ate dinner that night unfazed by the tooth dangling in your mouth. And even when we went to the pediatric dentist the following morning to have the tooth extracted, for you that was no big deal. The tooth was pulled, and you smiled to everyone and said, “Bye, bye.”

You learned early on how to roll with the punches. If I’m being honest, it really hasn’t been fair. I look at you now, and think that life has already robbed us of times that should have been so memorable but instead were a blur.

You came into this world, and within six months, I had said goodbye to the two of the most significant men in my life. If I could be granted one wish, it would be for you to have been able to know them. Your great-grandfather, whom you would have simply known as “Big Mick,” left this Earth just two days after you arrived, and my Dad, or known by the grandkids as “D,” was gone six months later.

I watch you so often and think about how much they would have loved you and laughed with you. How you would have illuminated their lives in the same way you’ve done to mine. How you have grown and changed so much since they last saw you and how my heart aches for a reunion for us all.

You were born in a time of grief in my life, but I praise God for you because you kept me going. My sweet Grady, you brought me light, gave me hope and reassured me of a future. Caring for you pushed me through the day-to-day and brought me so much joy in the small things. It’s not fair that so much weight be put on the small shoulders of a child, but our love helped me to survive.

In those earliest days of your life, I never would have known how fully you would give me joy. From the kisses you give me on the cheek and forehead to the tight-squeeze of your hug, I love all that you are and pray you can light up this world in the same way you’ve lit up mine.

With all my heart, Momma Stephanie Jordan is a local journalist, marketer and blogger.

Her blog can be found at www.stephanienetherton.blogspot.com, and she can be contacted at [email protected].