Image by Shafin Al Asad Protic from Pixabay
Thalia Ludlow knew her husband, Capt. R.E. Ludlow, intimately – in fact, she was the first of only eight people living who would ever have that privilege. But, the seven grandchildren they had custody of were still too young to understand all of what they had in a grandfather – Eleanor, at 11, was the closest, and she did look carefully at her grandfather as he walked in, but he covered her with his smile.
“Papa's home,” he purred, and opened his arms.
All of them ran to him and got blessed with his strong arms and his smile – all they knew of security in the whole world was him and Mrs. Ludlow, and now that he was home, everything was complete again.
Only Mrs. Ludlow understood what it had taken for him to be that anchor for them … after 33 years in the Army, no easy homecoming … all that was left from his divorce a decade earlier, all that was not necessary to care for his second wife, he had sold it all to pay for the lawyers he would need to get his grandchildren out of foster care across the country and gathered to him.
And, every day – all those isometrics, calisthenics, weightlifting – same Army regimen, adjusting for age … the collagen and other supplements so that his aging body could keep up … his ferociously disciplined diet … all so that he could stay strong and healthy for that same wife and little grandchildren. His doctor had said he could live thirty years from 55 even with minor heart trouble then, if … and Robert Edward Ludlow Sr. put the whole great force of his will on that if.
But then there were all the intangibles … and this is where Mrs. Ludlow had to come in. He did his therapy and anger management on one facet, had returned to music on another facet, and was growing in their shared Christian faith on another facet... but sometimes, like this day, something enormous had happened. To her, it was as clear as alarm bells – nothing but her love, gently ministered, would do.
All seven grandchildren were settling back into their play and reading, and there was no possibility of leaving them unsupervised … but much was said and done with her one hand, reaching out to stroke his arm … and his response, his blue eyes lighting up with relief, gratitude, and love. Later, he would tell her: his entire damaged childhood had flashed before his eyes, and it had both shaken him severely and reinforced his resolve toward his own grandchildren.
But, in the meantime, Mrs. Ludlow's tender hand steadied him, and his answering stroke of her face rewarded her before both went on about the pre-dinner tasks of the day.
“I love it when they do that,” Eleanor said to sisters eight-year-old Edwina and seven-year-old Amanda. “I'm not quite sure what they are doing when they do that, but I love it.”
“Me too!” Edwina said.
“It means we're safe and at home!” Amanda said.
“And we're staying!” six-year-old Grayson and nine-year-old George added.
“Yeah!” five-year-old Lil' Robert said. “Cuz' the rest of that world out there – it ain't ready for us anyway!”
“That's a nice way of putting it, Robert,” ten-year-old Andrew said. “Never mind us not being ready for it.”