Do you favor one of your kids?

My Mom tells me she always knew that her younger brother was loved more. Because her dad, my late grandfather, wanted a boy, so when he got one, he channeled his love to who he wanted so much. It’s not that Mom felt sidelined or neglected but she says there was never any doubt who the favorite child was in her family.

A couple of days ago it was eight years since my grandfather passed. He had battled cancer for two decades and at some point, it seemed like he’d battled for so long that he’d continue battling it forever; maybe he wouldn’t win but it’d be a kind of a draw. Actually, it wasn’t a kind of a draw, considering how long he held himself together.

Ironically, it was my Mom who was much closer to him in his final years. When he got really sick, in his final months, she took complete care of him. Her younger brother didn’t help that much. My grandfather was in much pain, my Mom — too; not from the burden of taking care of him. She loved him deeply. She was in pain from seeing him in pain. From seeing him being embarrassed about being helpless. And she was in pain from seeing him feel remorse about the favorite child thing. She’d long forgiven him; in fact, her love for her father was so deep that she probably didn’t need to forgive. She never held a grudge related to being the less favored child.

This is not the only time I came across the favorite child debate. My dad told me that his dad (my other grandfather!) had a confident and upfront opinion about the firstborn always being the favorite one.