Here is a tribute to my grandchildren that I published here a few months ago. I have never met, nor even had a phone exchange with any of them except for Joshua’s boys: Isaiah (son of Joshua) when he was about eight or nine. And Jalen (aka, “Jayswirl”) when he was maybe 14. But I have never met Mia, Poppy or Dorothy (daughters of Jesse) or Cam, Ian and Joy (offspring of Jordan). It is likely that I never will.
Apparently, the twins entered into a pact with my ex (their mother, Lynne) that unless I take the initiative and travel to Illinois, I would never meet them, and that prohibition apparently extends to phone calls as well. When I have called to touch base with my boys, they have never offered to let me talk to their children.
The problem I have with that is that between Lynne and Qadisha, (my two ex’s) they pillaged my inheritance and so I have no disposable income, and beings that Ceridwen and I live on Social Security, that’s not likely to change.
There is another, equally unlikely, scenario: The grandchildren could get together and fly themselves (either all together or individually) out here to the Redwood Coast and meet with me, without their parents.
I’ve made it a point for the last few years to send birthday presents to all of my grandchildren. Do the kids know from whom these “mystery” packages from California originate? Cam does. His dad has taken pictures with Cam posing with my presents.
During a messenger exchange a few months back (it was still Summer) Jordan did mention something like him having time off coming in November and it sounded like he might have had a plan to come out. But when I talked to him about it in October he said they had some financial set backs and they needed a new dishwasher, so a trip in the fall was not feasible.
The bottom line is that my ever meeting the grandchildren is not very likely. I turned 72 this past November 15th (2025). The life span of Arseneau men seems to average around 75, on the other hand, my plan is to live to see 100. The Jewish birthday wish is “… may you live to see 120.” Moses was 120 when he died, so I am guessing that is where that tradition comes from.
How to cope? I’ve recently joined three FaceBook groups that are supposed to help you deal with your estranged children. If nothing else, maybe I will find some peace concerning this. I am seeing a therapist, every other week. I’m not sure what, if any, good is coming of that, but it does give me a neutral ear to kvetch in.
I have thought about throwing caution to the wind and sending each of the twins a copy of one of the mythicism books, such as those written by Richard Carrier.
Waiting is.
