I spent a lot of today thinking of people from my past--namely my Grandparents (all four of them). As I was holding my son and trying to soothe him into sleep by swaying in my living room, I walked by some old photos that I have displayed. I'm not sure if it's the postpartum hormones or just the fact that I miss the shit out of them all, but I got a little weepy. I glanced at the picture of my Mom's dad--"Grandpa"--sitting in his leather recliner holding proudly my sister's and my baby dolls, almost as if he were holding actual great-grandchildren. Next I looked over at my "Grandma" (my Mom's mom) who is sitting on a chair holding my cousin as a newborn with my sister on one side and me on the other--all of us grinning from ear to ear over the excitement. My Dad's dad ("Papa") is in another picture and it's a close-up of him sticking his purple tongue out at me after just eating my homemade blueberry pie. Then there's my "Nana" (Dad's mom) standing oh-so-small in a doorway (trying not to be seen) with her slender arm on her hip and her mouth opened in a "oh no! you got me!" face, watching the lame attempt my Dad was making at grilling in 30 mph wind. I remembered each of these moments as if they happened yesterday.
I then thought back at my relationship with each of them. Grandpa was like the Dad we never had. In fact, we even called him "Grandpa Dad"! He spoiled us rotten. We were his babydolls, his darlings, his girls....all pronounced with a drawn out Southern accent. He was an amazing and creative man. He could fix anything he got his hands on. He was a wonderful listener. He loved to learn and for someone who didn't graduate high school, he was very intelligent. He could make anyone laugh. He was compassionate for both humans and animals. I never felt more loved than when I was with him.
My Grandma was my amazing little buddy. She was such a strong and smart woman. She put her family first like her husband and was always worried about our well-being. She wanted us to be safe, comfortable and secure. I loved listening to her stories no matter how many times I heard the same ones. I think back at the patience she had trying to teach me piano (of which I never got the hang of), and of all of the talent and plethora of skills she possessed. She helped shape me into the woman I am today.
Papa and Nana lived in Nova Scotia, so we saw them once a year when we were younger and the same when we were older. There was a large gap in between when we didn't see each other and I have to say that the first meeting after so many years was a moment that I'll never forget. Happy tears all over the place! Papa was an old-school stoic and kind of a control freak. He was hilarious and spontaneous. Like Grandpa, he could fix anything too. He invented all sorts of tools that would lay all around his barn/garage/workshop. He was proud of his land, home, his service to his country, and his family. His devotion and love for his wife was something that I looked for in a husband. Nana was my comedic twin. She was plain, simple and delightful. She made the most out of everything and adored her grandchildren. She was the world's biggest recycle queen before there was even recycling! Her lightheartedness and stress-free attitude are qualities I will always aspire to have.
While I was reflecting over the photos, I also thought about how I've learned more about myself and the traits that they inadvertently passed down to me. I have recognized that my creativity and compassion for animals comes from Grandpa. My patience with people and love for knitting comes from Grandma. My being a control freak and spontaneous comes from Papa. My sense of humor and simplistic ways come from my Nana. I'm proud that I can pick out their individual traits within my personality. It makes me wonder if they were able to see it this way as well?
Argh. Writing all of this makes me want to say that I don't like that I don't have any of them around anymore!! I can't hold Grandpa's hand when I need to.....I can't enjoy a cup of strong coffee and watch the news with Grandma any longer (she passed very recently).....I can't show off pictures of my house to Papa when I go up to visit the old homestead.....and I can't giggle endlessly over nothing with my Nana. Most of all, I don't like that I can't introduce any of them to their first great-grandchild. This is something that I've had to accept. All I can do is share with him all of my memories of each of them and of how much they meant to me. I can tell him about the time Grandpa helped me build a chair with all of his tools for my Art School project. I can talk about how Grandma used show us how she would communicate over CB radio with people all over the world for fun. He'll be able to hear about how Papa used to instruct us on how to drive the tractor over the field. And I can't wait to tell him the joke Nana used to crack about the time Papa proposed to her on that hot summer day way back when! .....So many moments shared but still not enough. But, they'll have to be enough.
In thinking of the future, I hope that my son is able to build wonderful relationships with his grandparents like I did with mine and that he can establish a mental database of memories to hold dear and share. Afterall one day, more than likely, he too will be passing by some old photographs while soothing his baby into dreamland. Will he become teary-eyed while glancing over at them and reflecting?? We'll have to wait and see! Chances are, though, if history is known to repeat itself, yes he will--especially if he takes after me and has my traits!
This made me cry. I miss them all so much too.
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