On GRANDparents

Grandparents are aptly named. They are Grand. At least mine were.

I have 3 sets of Grandparents: My father's parents, My mother's father and his 2nd wife ( the only surviving Grandparent I have left) and My mother's mother and husband.

I had a very special bond with my paternal Grandmother, even though I rarely saw her. She made great efforts to be connected to me. The mother of 6 boys, she was the ultimate care-giver. I lost her the summer before I began grade 4. I was devastated. My grandfather, her husband, had passed away when I was too small to be adversely affected. I do wish I had known him better.

My mom's father and 2nd wife were great to me too. I spent a great deal of my time with them when I was a young girl. My fondest memories of their house was my uncle's bedroom and his gerbils. I was fascinated with those rodents. My grandma also collected those Avon perfumes: the women whose torso came off to dispense the potent perfume inside. I also vividly remember those Christmas tree icicles that lit up and had liquid in them. Remember those? My surviving grandma is 84 and we just attended a wedding together - she was dancing up a storm. She's an absolute treasure.

The Grandparents I was the closest to were my Mom's mother and her husband. I spent every summer of the first 12 years of my life with them in hot, dry Saskatchewan where grandpa had 2 farms and a barber business, while grandma ran a successful accounting firm. I made really good friends there, learned to swim, had my first crush on a boy, and even started grade 1 there because my local school board was on strike that year.

These Grandparents were young when they started caring for me in the summer. I think they were in their mid/late 40s. But they were always young at heart. Grandma played the piano by ear, and Grandpa played in a polka band. They loved to dance. He never had any children of his own, so I held a special place in his heart. I felt more like a daughter to him than a granddaughter. He wrote me a song on his accordion - to this day, I regret not recording it or having him write it down. It saddens me to know I will never hear it again. I can't even remember what it sounds like. Their love of music was part of the glue that bonded them, as well as their love of laughter. I loved being with them. My grandma was a tremendous woman. There are no words to describe her that do her enough justice.

I feel like I knew all of these people quite well, but I could have known them better. I regret that I will never have the chance. I have to savor the memories of all of my Grandparents.

Last summer I had a dream about my Grandpa from Saskatchewan and my Dad's mother. It turns out it was a night that was right in the middle of the dates that they both passed away. I couldn't sleep so I got up and wrote this down....

Grandpa

A vision of you woke me

on the eve

of your death's anniversary

And with it

all of my memories

of you

So dignified, you were

Farmer's arms

Sparkling eyes, trouble maker

Wax paper sandwiches

and chocolate bars

in your worn metal lunchbox

Harvest Time

My sundress

complimented by your rubber boots

12 sizes too big

The dusty streets of the hamlet,

Playing marbles in the church pews,

The song you wrote for me

We were bonded

Not by blood

Yet, thicker than blood

You fell in your field

onto your bread and butter

Dignity lost

You disappeared before our eyes

Buried next to wheat sheafs

Dignity regained

Summer fallow