This is a tricky business, this business of being a grandmother. My child has delivered a child. Every possible emotion, and a few I never knew were available, has launched. I started crying in the waiting room as I watched another family get the news that their baby had arrived. That was just the precursor. The emotions rise up and I feel them; boy do I ever feel them. You might think that the overwhelming sadness that my daughter's father of blessed memory is not alive to see his granddaughter would cancel out the joy of seeing that sweet little baby in her arms or the gratitude I feel for my husband Joe's enthusiasm about grandpahood. It doesn't. The colors in a rainbow blur a bit into each other, yet each color remains distinct and brilliant in its own way.
Sadness, joy, love, sweetness, possessiveness, pride: each feeling is distinct and each one rainbows into the next. No clear boundaries here; it's impossible to tell where one feeling stops and the next one starts and I hold them all.
The beauty is in the blur.