The holidays are filled with blogs full of people recounting lost family members. Loved ones no longer physically with them, yet shining through memories and the wonderful stories of their lives and their impact on their family. Grandfather stories, full of cigars, and stiff drinks, lager than life warm characters I wish I could identify with.I can’t.
I am blessed that my family has never suffered, what in my eyes would be, a major catastrophic loss. As I mentioned in a previous post, my grandfathers, both of my grandfather have passed, my mothers father before I was a bloggin, while both were a loss, neither man was close to me, my father was close to his father. And no daughter can live through the loss of her father and not be affected, so while not discussed I’m sure my mother morned in her way. My great uncles death was a tragedy to me to be sure, but not the way it was to his sister, my grandmother, and my great grandmother. My pain was for them in those cases.
My grandmothers are all alive- five generations deep. My Great Grandmother Vorece has touched my children, she kisses them and cups their faces with her beautifully aged hands, soft like tissue paper, strong like pillars even in their frailty. I hope my sister brings her child home soon so Sophia can be held by those hands.
The holidays and all these blog stories remind me that my Great Grandmother is not immortal. It is selfish of me I know, but I want her to be here with us for at least twenty more years. She is 92. The odds are not with me on this. She has lived a good stong long life. When she dies I will have pages upon pages of things to tell you of her awesomeness, internets. Lately I picked up the slack left when my sister moved. I take her special treats, Honey baked ham slices, liver from Straub’s, what ever would tickle her day. I offer to pick up prescriptions, and do the things my sister did when she was here. Because I love that she is here still. My Grandmother Dell carries her mothers burdens, runs the errands, does the things you do when your parents are elderly. I watch her and know what I will do for her one day. She is still teaching me the kind of woman I want to be when I grow up. She is also molding my Girls everyday, I am blessed, and I hope Cammy knows in her soul how lucky she is to have so many people loving her everyday. My father and Jerry’s father, they both do the grandpa thing, with enthusiasm, I might add. They are both rather – loners. Even still I am jealous of my girls. I never had this kind of grandfather time. Never had a grandpa to run to and blow raspberries on. Or to expect magic from his pockets. I see now the truth of grandparents. Most people who have great stories of their grandfathers, typically have them cause there grandmothers were there to nudge grandpa into sharing with the kids, the fact that they were even there is a testament to their still together marriages, which in my family sadly is not the case.I know in my world my mom is the vocal ‘bring the kids over here’ grandparent. She was the vocal parent as well, so its not surprising. My grandmother is the’ let me baby sit cause nobody loves them like I do’ person. I often wonder were grandfathers fit in when they are not caught in the whirlwind that grandmothers inflict on life. Grandfathers are like subcontractors. Nuf said I think. Butt crack and all.
So knowing this – I am hoping that when the girls grow up they will remember how much all of these people love them, even though their grandfathers are not part of the everyday crew, they can see the awesomeness that she has in them forever.
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