The Consequences of Heroic Acts

Three weeks ago, I wrote about my grandson, Donovan. Let's face it, I was boasting about him, in the way that grandparents are wont to do. My mother used to say that if you boast today, you will cry tomorrow. But three weeks had passed, and I hadn't yet. Another old wife's tale.

Three weeks ago, another grandmother's beloved grandson was released from prison, after serving time, reportedly, for assault. He is in his late twenties, stands a couple of inches taller than Donovan and, evidently, spent most of his time while incarcerated working out in the prison gym. Where Donovan has lingering baby fat, this other grandson has muscles upon muscles. He has more than six-pack abs - he sports a full case of them. His arms start at his neck, just below his earlobes, with upper arms as big around as my thighs. Yes, that big!

Three days ago, my grandson and the other grandmother's beautiful boy crossed paths. This chance meeting didn't turn out well for either grandson. My grandson was knocked to the ground and injured by the other grandson, who was arrested for his assault on Donovan.

Donovan saw one of his neighbors pull into the apartment building parking lot. From out of nowhere, it seemed to him, another woman and two men ran up to his neighbor's car, whereupon the unknown woman reached into the neighbor's car and began beating her. Donovan ran over to the car and placed himself between his neighbor and the attacker. He held his hands up, palms open and facing the attacker, to block her blows, giving his neighbor time to exit her car from the passenger side.

Donovan pleaded with the attacker to just walk away, that what she was doing wasn't going to solve anything, and would only bring trouble to her if she continued. The other grandson began shoving Donovan in his chest, trying to push him out of the way. Donovan turned toward the attacker and said she needed to leave, that because she didn't live in the building, she was trespassing and could be arrested for it.

That's when the other grandson sucker-punched Donovan, who has never hit anyone in his entire life - blind-sided him, knocking him unconscious. This man, a street-fighter wise in the ways of bullying and beating others, hit Donovan so hard that the inside of his upper lip, along the jaw teeth, was split almost to the outer skin. He bloodied Donovan's nose and mouth so severely that Donovan lost enough blood to become anemic. Either the man's fingernail, or perhaps a ring he was wearing, gouged a piece of D's lip away, and he needed stitches to close the gash.

My grandson had to visit the hospital twice for his injuries, but he is going to be okay. His bruises and wounds will heal before long. The other grandson is back in county prison, for violating his parole agreement (no fighting), while he awaits trial on charges stemming from his assault on Donovan. The prognosis for him is not as good as it is for Donovan.

I've written about this for a couple of reasons. First, to say how proud I am of Donovan for doing a brave, selfless thing in coming to the aid of friend and neighbor when she was unable to defend herself. I also am proud of him because he was putting into action the lessons his mother and I (and others) have tried to teach him about not giving in to his anger in confrontations - to walk away, which he was trying to pass on to the attacker. His actions, his obvious grasp of the non-violent solution to conflict, tells me he is maturing, and growing toward independence. He is adapting to the world and learning how to live among - to navigate around, to cope with - the rest of us complicated, not always well-behaved, human beings.

Mostly (as always and no matter what this says about me), I've written for myself, to help me understand the incomprehensible. I write to release the extreme anger and murderous rage I feel toward that other grandmother's beloved grandson for hurting my gentle-spirited, kinder-than-God grandson, greatest gift I will ever receive - our beloved Donovan.

This is me, walking away.