So, today is Grandparent’s Day (who knew?) and guess who forgot to call her grandmother? Well, actually, both of her grandmothers? That would be me. And I feel terrible. But, since I’m guessing that neither of them knew it was Grandparent’s Day today, and since I’m not what you would call an absentee grandchild, I think I can get a pass on today.
I know how blessed I am to have both of my grandmothers around—alive, relatively healthy, in their right minds, and in my life. I do a fairly decent job of staying in touch- sending cards on Mother’s Day, birthdays, and other major holidays and even calling just because- but I could always do better; particularly because as I get older, so do they. And as much as I hate to think about it, I know they won’t be around forever. And having dealt with tragedy recently, I know how important it is to cherish the moments that I have with the people that I love. And I do. I just wish that I had taken the time to get to know them better when I was younger (and they were, too) and had so much more time to learn.
Now I could write an entire essay on the time I spent with my grandmothers, both what I did with them and what I wished I would have done differently. But what I really want, sometimes, is to have known them back when they were my age; or even before they became mothers and grandmothers; before they became the grandmothers that I knew growing up and that I know now. I see the photos from their funky, fly, fresh days and I wonder what they were like, then.
So I live vicariously through stories of yesteryear. One of my favorites is of my grandparents taking my cousins to the airport to pick up my aunt and uncle. My grandfather goes in to help with the bags and, as per usual, instantly attracts female attention. So he’s standing to the side, sniggling and giggling while the bags have been collected and everyone’s ready to leave. So my grandmother walks up to him and says, “Oh, so you’re gonna act like you don’t know me? You better come on before I turn this airport out,” and walks away without waiting for a response. And my grandfather? He doesn’t give one, he just brings it on out to the car.
Now, I love that story, not just because of how my grandmother checked that whole situation but because my grandmother checked that situation. You have to understand that in my grandparent’s house, what my grandfather said was how it was going to be. He was the disciplinarian, authoritarian, head of the household. And she was the quiet, dutiful, home-making wife and mother. So it’s easy to see a certain (public) power dynamic, particularly between older married couples and judge them, without understand the layers it takes to make it work. So while my grandmother is a sweet, mother of the church, no cursing, no drinking, word-find fanatic who cooks the.best.food.ever, and holds our family down. I know that she is also the very perceptive, see and hear everything even if she doesn’t say anything, sassy, keep everyone in line boss. I wonder what adjectives I would’ve used to describe her back in the day…maybe some of the same ones I’d use to describe me.
I say all that to say that on today, or any other day, if you’re blessed to still have your grandparents alive, cherish that. Spend some time with them and get to know them, beyond how you already know them. (and let them get to know you) Who knows? They just might surprise you.
What’s your best memory of your grandparent(s)?
Making a mental note to call mine
Homegirl NYC 