Ada Alden Ed.D.

Every year for years, we bundled up children, suitcases, and stuff to travel to California. I believed our children needed to know what a grandfather looked like. Our visits were short and I usually went alone. Tickets for three were expensive. Tickets for four were difficult. I still recall wandering through airports lugging blankets, binkies and bunnies hurrying to a gate to assure a safe boarding. My little ones were schlepped regularly, because I believed they needed a grandfather in their lives. I also believed the grandfather needed them. As the first born daughter, I dutifully sent pictures, drawings and pithy notes about the girls, their lives and their accomplishments. I believed that our coming and going was significant and the right thing to do.

Recently, I heard of a little boy who had no grandfather. He made one up. His grandfather came to play with him regularly. His grandfather liked to take him fishing, read stories, and even attended his baseball games. The little boy wrote wonderful stories about his imaginary grandfather visiting his house. The imaginary grandfather had lots of time for his grandson. He gave special hugs and delighted in sharing silly stories. The imaginary grandfather always came when he said he would. The imaginary grandfather carefully placed the little boy's pictures on his refrigerator to admire long after the child had gone home.

I've thought about the imaginary grandfather and my daughters. I wonder which was better. Having a grandfather that didn't respond as a grandfather is perhaps more painful than the creating of one that meets inner dreams. Imaginary grandfathers never let you down. Imaginary grandfathers reassure, hug and nurture. My father left a quiet and ever present ache. My father always told my daughters he would visit. He never did. My father always told me, he would visit. He never did. As the years slipped by, we even sent money hoping to entice him to come. Our daughters never understood why he didn't want to see their bedrooms, their schools, and join us at our table for dinner. None of us understood why he couldn't take the time to attend soccer games, graduations or birthday parties.

I am a grandmother now. Nothing about me is imagined by our grandchildren. They have a clear and consistent sense of who and what their grandmother is. As the daughter of the grandfather that never showed up, I wonder as I learn the lessons my grandchildren have to teach, how could he have missed this? What prevented the connections between grandparent and grandchildren? How could this Stanford University graduate, clever about so many things, have ignored the joy of having granddaughters eager for hugs, stories, and the sharing of laughter? No wonder so many little ones create imaginary grandparents. They can be more reliable, more available, more nurturing. Imaginary grandparents can fill the silence and the void.

Both my husband and I have learned from watching. We are present, available and substantive. Our grandchildren are stuck with us and no imaginary elders need apply.

Ada Alden's book Parenting on Purpose: Red Yellow Green Framework for Respectful Discipline provides guidance for adults who care about children.