When my son was in the 4th grade, I asked my parents if they'd be interested in speaking to his class about what it was like to have immigrated to America.
This year, they were excited to be invited back to Heritage Day by Hope's 4th grade teacher, who heard them speak a few years ago and was hoping they'd share their experiences with her class, as well.
This time, I was a little concerned about their being able to go through with it.
To be honest, physically, mentally, emotionally, my parents are in a very different place (who isn't, right?) they have their good days and bad days -- not to mention, down right sucktastic times when they can no longer hide the pain from their faces -- so, I didn't make any promises and just hoped for a good day.
It was a REAL good day.
My inlaws, not so much.
My mother-in-law suffers from trigeminal neuralogia, has for years, to the point where the simple act of eating, drinking, talking and even smiling, causes her debilitating pain.
Married to their son, for nearly 21 years, I feel it safe to say that it probably hurts my father-in-law, even more. Dad grew up outside of Boston (or, if you're from Boston, then Bah-ston) so, I really do appreciate his strong New England sensibilities and his wicked sense of humor (dry as it is) especially, on a good day, when my mother-in-law is, you know, not hurting.
Because, we ALL have learned to enjoy each others company (yes, on purpose!) and, although we may not always agree, let alone, get a word in edgewise (sorry, Grandpa!) my inlaws are an important part of our family's story, as well.
IN OTHER WORDS: Yesterday was a REAL good day, too.
Consider yourselves blogged, Mom and Dad (you're welcome!!!)
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