It was lonely time. I had two small boys, Matthew, two and a half, and Andy, 6 months. I was in the early stages of worrying about Matthew’s development. He just wasn’t talking, and he was overly interested in drains, of all things.

Our family of four and had just moved to a small ranch house in Northern California and I was stir crazy. I longed to meet some friends in my new community, but didn’t know where to start. Luckily, we were just twenty minutes away from my parent’s house, which was great, because my parents loved spending time with their grandsons, and I cherished their company.

I visited mom two or three mornings a week while Dad worked, and we’d watch the boys roll around on the grass while we laughed and chatted, sharing lunch before I drove home, tired and happy.

“You’ll meet some nice friends,” Mom reassured me. “You always do.”

Soon after, I met a woman in the pediatrician’s office. Did I know about the group of new moms that met at the park two mornings a week, she asked? She encouraged me to stop by the next day. I was so excited.

Just as I was leaving for park that first day, Mom called.

“Are you busy?” she asked, and I told her about the invitation.

“Wonderful!” she said. “I was in the mood for a visit, but we can do it another day!”

I told I’d skip it, and she said no way, but there was something in my mother’s voice that got to me. It occurred to me that young motherhood is just one of many lonely stages in life.

Just as I veered toward the park and my new friends, Matthew, the boy that I was so worried about, pointed the other way.

“Grandma’s house” he said with purpose, and I wove back to the road, the road that led to Mom’s. I knew in my gut that his was the right choice. After all, Mom had always been there when we needed her. She was still young, but she wouldn’t be around forever. There’ll come a day when she’s gone, I told myself, when I’d give anything to spend a morning like this with her.

When we arrived, I found Mom sitting in a quiet corner reading a book. The look on her face when our eyes met was one I will never forget, full of love, gratitude, but not surprise. She knew that we would come.

Matthew and Andy are now 22 and 20, and my third son,  John is 16. Their Grandma died five years ago, just 71 years old, and they miss her terribly. But in the months that led to her death, we “surprised” her with many visits. And we’ll never regret them.

Laura

Laura Shumaker is the author of A REGULAR GUY: GROWING UP WITH AUTISM.

She contributes to 5 minutes for special needs each Friday. Look for her in A CUP OF COMFORT FOR PARENTS OF SPECIAL NEEDS CHILDREN.