Saturday, May 18, 2019

Grandma and Grandpa

Wrote this on another forum today:

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My first year of college my grandparents graciously allowed me to live with them rent free. I was their oldest grandchild and they were still fairly young. Also, they were probably a little over optimistic about what it takes to have a stranger in their house but I digress.

They had been married about 40 years at the time. Just guessing. They seemed to have a pretty tenuous relationship but they also seemed to love each other. I can't tell you how many times Grandma would trot out some offense that Grandpa had committed 30 years ago and start flogging him yet again. He didn't remember it but he just assumed that her memory of it was accurate. Probably very wise of him. More than once, he told me, "I sure don't recall any of that." And shake his head.

Grandpa used to grow stuff. By that I mean he had a garden that was worthy of the most spectacular write up in any gardening magazine. It never happened but I was endlessly amazed by a year of the best produce the good earth could provide. And given the somewhat small space he had available (3/4 acre, I believe), the quantities of that produce were nothing short of amazing. Far too much for the three of us to consume. Grandma made the best meals with it, too.

Every morning, for most of the year, even during the mild winters of Southern Arizona, Grandpa would bring in an armload of produce and leave it in the sink for Grandma to deal with. She complained about it every time. Grandma wasn't given to profanity but you could see it on her face. Seemingly grudgingly, she would put up the bulk of it and she would use it as much as possible. Much of it she put up for the freezer. She canned a LOT of it. (THAT is a ton of work!) Anything she couldn't use right away went to the neighbors who were always endlessly appreciative.

Over the year I spent with them, it was clear that they loved each other in their own way. I only saw them kiss a very few times and they weren't given to PDA's, even in front of me.

They stuck together through thick and thin. They were both depression era kids and married very soon after the worst of the depression. They were committed to each other, to their kids and to their religion. Well, Grandma was committed to their religion. Grandpa was an highly educated man and had an extensive background in philosophy and literature. I recall that he said quite a few things that make me question the depth of his belief. You could never really tell from the outside, though, except that he did all the right things that the church required of him. Somehow, I think he just didn't want to give Grandma any more ammo.

When Grandma died, Grandpa took it really hard. He lived about 10 more months and then his heart just finally decided it couldn't take life without his beloved any more. About a week before he passed, my wife and I were visiting him and he wasn't his usual conversational self. He had always had things to say which were always well thought out and very well-spoken, being the wordsmith that he was. But that day, he was just quiet and reflective. Then I said something about Grandma and his eyes lit up and for about two hours, he talked about her in the way he always spoke about anything he loved. He was genuinely happy to be thinking of her.

After a while, he ran out of steam as his illnesses began to sap his strength and he got quiet and reflective again. I told him, "You want to be with her, don't you?"

He replied, almost in a whisper, "Yes. Always."

I said, "Then you have everyone's permission to go to her."

He didn't say much more than that. The three of us made our farewells and we went home.

About a week later, he gathered his kids together, my father and my three aunts and uncles and he said goodbye to them. I don't remember now if he passed away in their presence but it was only a day later that he finally gave up the ghost, as they say.

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So, I went on much longer than I intended as I began to reminisce about them. There's so much more that could be said, of course. Somehow, it made me cry and I'm 53 years old. But I miss them both. I have nothing but fond memories of them.

--Wag--

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