Three-hand squeezes

BY LARRY WHITELEY

Sometimes, certain things in life change not just your life, but also the lives of others forever. That happened in the life of our son, Kelly, and his wife, who live on a small farm in Wisconsin. 

They could not have children of their own, so they decided to adopt. The adoption agency showed them a picture of a little baby boy in Guatemala who needed a home. They got on a plane and came home with our grandson, whom they named Ty, all wrapped up in a blanket.

A few years later, they flew back to Guatemala to bring home Ty’s half-brother, whom they named Sam. They have both been a blessing to our son and daughter-in-law, as well as the rest of our family.

When they were young, I would tell them I love you, but they did not understand what I was saying. So, I would take their little hand in mine and squeeze it three times. I told them that the three hand squeezes mean I LOVE YOU. They eventually smiled and squeezed my hand back three times.

Our three-hand squeezes continued when Grandma and I would travel to Wisconsin to visit. We would go to their cabin on the lake for fishing and fun in the water. Back at the farm, we would shoot the pellet rifles or the bow and arrows I brought them.  

They would all come to Missouri to spend time with us at our cabin. They fished, hiked, played in the water and rode ATVs through the fields and forests. Our Missouri son, his wife, and our other grandkids, Hunter and Anna, came too. We built campfires and cooked s’mores. I always got my three hand squeezes.

They did not do that with anyone else. They only did that with me. It was our own special thing. I did start doing the three hand squeezes with my wife. She would smile and squeeze my hand back three times.

When they both started high school, our son told me not to expect the three-hand squeezes anymore. He said they were teenagers now and too cool to be doing something like that with their Papa. I thought to myself that at least I would always have the memories.

A month or so later, Grandma and I drove to Kansas for the wedding of our Missouri grandson Hunter. He attended Kansas State University; he met his soon-to-be wife. My wife and I were standing at one end of the building when our Wisconsin grandsons and our son and daughter-in-law came in the door.

When the teenage young men saw us, they ran across the room and hugged their grandma. They jumped on me, and I wrestled with them. Ty was the first to reach down and take my hand. He squeezed it three times. Sam took my other hand and squeezed it three times. I had to wipe a few tears away.

Life changed. They all got busy with their own lives. Trips to Wisconsin became fewer. Trips to Missouri also did. They are both in college now and working at jobs. We don’t see them as much.

I still text back and forth with them. There is one thing that has not changed.  At the bottom of every text message from them to me and every text message from me to them is always emojis of three hand squeezes. 

Something to think about

“Grandparents hold our hands for just a little while, but our hearts forever.”

- Unknown

Missouri Ozarks native Larry Whiteley has been communicating the great outdoors across America for over 40 years through newspapers, magazines, books, blogs and a nationally syndicated radio show. To read more of his award-winning stories, go to www.storiesbylarry.com. Email him at larrywhiteley2@gmail.com.