Henry has three Grandfathers. There’s my dad, Grandpa Chris, who has seen Henry a whopping two times. There’s my father-in-law, Grandpa Win, who cuddles and kisses Henry and pretends to eat his ear. Then there’s Grandpa Vince.
Grandpa Vince is my mother’s husband, my stepfather for the past over ten years or so. Vince and I have had a tumultuous relationship. When I was in my early twenties, Vince and I got in a horrible fight about what to name the cat that showed up at our doorstep. I wanted to name her “Piggy.” He thought “Gracie” sounded good. I stormed out of the veterinarian’s office when we couldn’t agree on what name to put down on her registration. I walked back home, threw a temper tantrum, that resulted in a broken plaster sculpture. Thank goodness those days are over.
Our relationship has improved exponentially in the last few years as I’ve let go of some of the possessiveness I feel for my mother and have started a family of my own. What has really made a difference in the last few months is Henry. My relationship with Vince has been completely transformed. Looking back at my relationship with my stepfather, I never would have thought we’d become so close. So pleasantly surprised at how grateful I am to have him in our lives.
He is Grandpa Vince. He loves my “little guy” so much and would do anything for him. Since Henry was born, Vince has wanted to visit and snuggle my little man whenever he can. He puts Henry on his knee and plays horse with him, pretending he’s a jockey in a race. He sings songs (Vince is a master of lyrics) and Henry looks in his Grandpa’s eyes and smiles. And Vince is always talking to him about things they will do someday when he’s older, like fishing, golfing, checking out the hot rods. Henry is a very lucky boy to have this very special grandpa who loves him like crazy. I am so lucky, too.