In September 2022 a new life entered the world and inherited the name of his uncle: Malcolm. My first grandson.
We don’t know yet if he has inherited anything else from his namesake. His hair is ginger, what he has of it, and uncle Malcolms hair was blond, very blond and curly. His legs are long and skinny so he certainly has his uncles length. But uncle Malcolm was a preemie and new Malcolm was late. There may be something shared even in that, though. Uncle Malcolm entered the world thanks to an emergency C-section, but if his later nature would be an indicator, he would have hung around and been late himself, if he’d had his way.
New Malcolm is my new love. I was hesitant about the name for a while after his dad shared their name selection. How would my hurt respond? But it grew on me. No new Malcolm will ever take his uncle’s place; he is definitely his own very different person already. And although I sometimes think I see his uncle looking fixedly at me through the baby’s eyes, it is only as if to say, “I’m still here, mum. Don’t feel bad for loving a new Malcolm. He can’t take away any of the love you gave me. I’m holding on to it until we meet again. I just wanted to see your eyes smiling at me one more time.” And my hurt heart was warmed.
Traces of Hope 