A Bridge of Trust ~ A Memoir

Grandma and Grandpa Amstutz are “one-of-a-kind” grandparents.  At least to me they are since I didn’t really grow up with any.  All but one of my grandparents had passed away before I was three and the only living one, whom I only saw once in awhile, died when I was in high school.  Yes, Grandma and Grandpa Amstutz are special.  They went out of their way to make family more than just a group of people connected by blood but gave the word “family” meaning by giving the people in their family attention, love and time.

     Grandma and Grandpa Amstutz wanted to share themselves with the people in their family.  When Dave, my husband and their first born grandchild, was growing up they would spend weekend days together walking the quiet wooded trail of the College Farm woods looking for birds and grasshoppers, picking up leaves and sticks, and crossing the swinging bridge to the other side of the river. When Dave and I had children of our own Grandma and Grandpa Amstutz often talked about their desire to take Noah and Nicholas on the same walk, wanting to create in them a similar memory as they had done with Dave and his sister Jennifer during their youth.

     The summer that Noah was five and Nicholas was 2 1/2 Grandma and Grandpa finally got their wish.  Dave, Noah and Nicholas and I headed to Bluffton one Sunday morning.  I was filled with anxiety during the entire hour and twenty minute drive north up I-75.  So many questions ran through my busy mind. “What if Noah ran off from them during the hike?”  “Could Grandma and Grandpa handle all of Nicholas’ hopping?”  Nicholas hopped everywhere instead of walking.  “What if Grandma had an asthma attack of Grandpa fell—the boys wouldn’t know what to do?”  I was truly a nervous wreck inside.

     You see, the thing that made me the most anxious was that Grandma and Grandpa wanted to take this walk with Noah and Nicholas without Dave and I—well, more accurately without me.  I always was in control of my kids and in the span of that walk, I would have no control.  Having a son with a developmental disorder and a hippity-hoppity toddler on a walk in a place I had never been—especially a place where they would be crossing a swinging bridge (and I remembered many swinging bridges from my own childhood and that gave me even more cause to be anxious) frightened me.

     Nevertheless, after hugs, kisses, and a  delicious family dinner, Grandma and Grandpa set off on their walk with Noah and Nicholas—water bottles and frozen Snickers bars packed in a thermal lunch bag.  Dave and I drove our tan Dodge Caravan around to the back side of College Farm to meet them on the other side to the point that would be the end of the hike.  Dave and I walked to the arranged meeting point— the other side of the swinging bridge.  As we were walking towards it, I could hear the happy sounds of my children’s voices off in the distance and the voices of their loving great-grandparents asking them questions and talking to them gently as they approached the swinging bridge.

     A wave of relief washed over me as I realized that for one of the first times since Noah was first diagnosed with a developmental disorder I could turn over some control to others for at least a little while and that everything would be o.k.  As Dave and I stood on one side of that swinging bridge and watched Grandma and Grandpa Amstutz take Noah and Nicholas’ little hands and walk across that swinging bridge, not only were special memories formed that day for the boys and their great grandparents, but a bridge of trust was also built.  This bridge of trust was built between them and me.  Trust is something that I do not give easily and on that hot day in that wooded area called College Farm in Bluffton, our bridge of trust was built at that swinging bridge.

     After Grandma and Grandpa and the boys arrived safely across the bridge, we  hugged and kissed.  I took a photo of the four of them to commemorate this occasion when great-grandparents and great-grandsons took a walk down memory lane.  An occasion where grandparents shared with their great grandsons a piece of their father’s history and made new memories for themselves.

     Afterward, we spent time exploring the old building that existed on that side of the bridge and drank water from the old well.  They boys took turns pumping the handle to bring forth water letting Grandma and Grandpa lean forward and quench their thirst just as if they were children, too.

     We shared a lot of laughter and made memories in those woods that day.  I often wonder what kinds of things Grandma and Grandpa told Noah and Nicholas about when I was not there with them.  But, that is special between them.  They built their own bridge of trust that day too.