Grandparents Day

Ever feel like Grandparents Day is a little oh-so-sentimental?  Were your real relationships with your grandparents more complicated than the Hallmark cards with the water colored sunsets indicates?  I asked our contributors about their favorite memories of their grandparents, and here are their (very real!) responses.

Jill Joiner said

Unfortunately, due to cancer throughout my family tree, answering this question presents a bit of a dilemma for me. For four generations, no grandchild has ever met a grandmother. So, memories look a little different in our home. One such memory of my grandmother was finding my mom, normally so upbeat, lying on her bed in tears. Perplexed, I asked what was wrong. And she said, “I just wish you could have known your grandmother and she could have known you.”

Fast forward a few years and this time I am the one in tears as I again find my mom in bed. But now, it is a hospice bed. I tell her that I hate to see her suffer like this. And her response has profoundly affected me ever since. She said, “Don’t… I don’t… it is what is going to make you able to give me up.” 

You see, she knew how hard it was to lose a mom young. She also knew the pain of her death would only be bearable when it was actually less painful than watching her live. And so as miserable as her circumstances were, she was willing to endure them.

Her own experience of loss meant she knew many of the things I would long for later… parenting advice, a shared love for my children, as well as stories of our heritage. So, she left those things for me in the form of a journal. 

As a result, I almost feel like I was standing there when my grandmother’s wig, a poor camouflage for the results of chemo, came off on set of her PBS Science show.  That day seems almost as vivid to me as the day I walked into my mom’s first grade classroom, finding her so sick from her own chemo, but  giving up her break to hold a child who wasn’t going to be held at home.

The only memories of my grandparents were well formed though the voice and life of my mom, the same way I will pass the memories to my own children.  But, for the next generation, lets hope the memories come the way they are supposed to.

David French said

My law school graduation was one of the best days of my life.  Literally, a top five day.  I had worked quite hard (though not nearly as hard as I would work in my first “real job”), I was graduating from Harvard  (that’ll make a person puff up with pride), and I was eager to take on the world as an idealistic young lawyer. 

My grandmother, Ruth B. French, a history teacher from rural Mississippi who began her career in a one-room schoolhouse, was there. She was widowed at a young age but picked up the pieces of her life, went to graduate school and then traveled much of the world in her quest to see and experience the places she’d long taught about. My earliest memories are of hours sitting by her side as she read from books about America’s past and present.  I love this country in no small part because she loved it so much.  I love learning because she loved learning.  And I love life because she loved life – and attacked it with courage and great joy.  

But despite this deep bond between us, for the vast majority of my graduation day, I felt – and acted -- as if I was the center of my little universe, moving from friend to friend, laughing, talking about the last three years, and generally behaving as if my family were much-beloved baggage.

After a whirlwind day filled with two commencement ceremonies (one university-wide, and one just for the law school), meals, and parties, we ended the day with on a boat cruise in Boston harbor.  I spent most of that cruise the same way I spent the day, hanging out with my friends.  But then, just as the night was about to end, I looked to the back of the boat and saw my grandmother, sitting alone and looking at the beautiful Boston skyline.  I was stricken by the sudden thought that I hadn’t spent time with her, and walked outside to sit beside her.

“Nana, are you doing ok?”

She was an amazing-looking woman, towering over others at almost 6 feet tall, a white head-full of hair, and enormous black glasses.  She looked at me, gave a big smile, and drawled, “David, just shoot me now, while I’m happy.”

She was happy because her grandson was graduating from Harvard.  She was happy because we were celebrating in the historic city where our nation was born.  She was happy because it was a beautiful night.  She was happy because she was seeing the fruits of her love and labor in my own education.  

And I was happy because she was happy.

Nana lived for a few more years, and we spoke often of that day in Boston — Nana’s day.  One of the best days.

Rebecca Cusey said

Because I lived with my grandparents growing up, I didn’t get the normal grandparent experience. I remember once, when I was very young, traveling to visit my grandparents, my Nonny (as I called her) standing in the doorway beaming, full of hugs, warmth and hospitality. When my dad and I moved in a little later, all that changed. We were everyday, part of the household.
 
And that’s just what I remember about my grandparents. Their last child, my uncle, had left for college and they were empty nesters at last. But when life asked them to provide us a home, they did. I don’t know if they hesitated or resented it. I wasn’t privy to that conversation. They did it because That’s What Family Does. To their generation, the World War II generation, duty was part of the air they breathed.
 
They put up with my childish demands and tantrums, birthday parties and sleepovers. My Nonny was there after school for a red licorice snack and a chat. By the time I graduated high school, we were very close. She was something between mother and grandmother. I like to believe they both thought the result was worth the extra child rearing years. I’m fairly sure, however, when they made the decision, it was out of duty. I think joy was a surprise. It’s often that way with life. You don’t know when you start down a path if that path will lead to beauty or pain. You hope, but you don’t know.
 
Now they both rest at Arlington National Cemetery, an honor due my grandfather from his service as a Marine in the South Pacific during World War II. That was long before I was born, but it shaped him and, eventually, me. He could be a mean sucker, but he never lost his sense of duty. For which, I am very grateful. Semper Fi.

Other Grandparents Day Resources:

1.  Sunshine Home: a realistic (and even hopeful) book for young kids about nursing homes.

2.  For the Birds: a tribute to one country grandfather who took the time to teach his city-bred grandson a thing or two about birds.

3. Someday: a book for children (and their moms and grandmoms!) which gives a sentimental, yet provocative view on child rearing.

4. Gift to Honor Grandparents: Okay, so maybe there are already too many gift-giving holidays.  Make something meaningful for the grandparents in your life this year.

What are your favorite memories of your grandparents?