Becoming a grandparent makes getting older something to look forward to - all the fun of parenting, without the hassle.
What Made Great-Grandma Great
I've often wondered about my great-grandma. She survived the depression, many economic downturns, various children, and the death of her husband. Her stubbornness and willpower is unmatched by many. Aside from one exception that came slightly close, I have yet to witness any others that can compare to her in that regard. Living like that was just the way it was I suppose. You had to be hard, tough, and resilient to get along and live in this world back then.
The Rose Bush
The rosebush proudly presided Where a young couple resided On a modest street Deep pink, American Beauty blooms Their sweet perfume, his heartfelt gift
9/17/2021 When my mother died in 2013, I remember thinking to myself, here is a woman who never had anything. I knew she had no retirement, though she worked her entire adult life. She had no home of her own, she didn’t own pretty things, she had no husband, no lover, no savings account. She had her last social security check of 600 dollars in the bank when she died. Three weeks before she left us she finally got new eyeglasses after a decade of wearing the old ones. Even with her new eyes she couldn’t see well because cataracts were smeared across her strikingly blue eyes. She’d never ridden a bicycle or driven a car, she’d never seen a concert or gone on a real vacation. She’d never been in an airplane, she never got to see Graceland. The day after she died, I called my father. I said “Dad, she never had anything to call her own”, which made my heart heavier and I sobbed louder. My Dad said to me “No, Stace, that's not true, she had you and Ray and Stevie and Lisa” My father’s words stuck with me while I planned her funeral. I thought to myself, what a shitty legacy, four asshole kids that never gave her a day’s worth of peace.
I Am Enough
This year was the birthday I needed. Most know that when you do not have a biological (or adopted) family, no one spends your birthday with you due to not being adopted. Or even a simple "Happy Birthday.". However, this year I learned a valuable lesson. I spent all my life searching for something I felt never could exist for me.
A Perfect Moment in Time
My hands instinctively dart to grab the sides of the canoe as I jolt upwards, Pap’s weight settling behind me and catching me unaware.
My Dadi (Maa)
My Dadi (Grandmother) is 76 years old. We call her ‘Maa’. Today evening, she came back from hospital after her routine check-up. She has many health issues like high blood pressure, Diabetes, Asthma. She sat on the chair in front of me all tired, stressed and worried. She was worried about her health. She was upset due to recurring health issues.
The Old House
Whenever I used to call Mimi ask how she was doing, she’d say, “Sweetie, I’m great. How are you?” Now, when I ask she always says the same thing: She sighs and says, “Oh, it’s hard. How are you?”
When the word hero is used it's used to describe someone of a heroic effort & for me that person was my Grandpa. He was always there for me & yet somehow since his passing he manages to still look over me in protection.
Memories of Nan
Memories of Nan My Nan’s place was a repository of so many memories, an unassuming home built of weatherboard and fibro sheeting, painted in two distinct shades of pink. A circular pathway surrounding a rose garden, led from the gate to the front door. I can still clearly picture Nan standing in that doorway. A small woman with snow white hair, the hem of her apron clasped in her hands.
What does anyone need to say about the fondness they have for their grandma or the unconditional love a grandparent could bestow on their progeny? Sure, there are some shocking exceptions, but my grandma, who lived next door when I was growing up, represented so many things – most of all she provided a refuge from a troubled and sometimes fearsome father. My dad’s anger at the world is an entirely different story. This one is about how my grandma, gone since I was 16 years old, can hear my daughter bounce.
I Remember the Days
I remember the days When I was young In a little green house On the walls, family pictures were hung. Every morning I would wake
That was the summer when my relationship with Memaw Rose changed. I spent nearly every childhood summer on the family farm with Memaw. That summer I was 15 years old. My memaw, the term my family used for grandma, lived on an expansive farm. In the middle of the lush, green acres sat the family home, a spacious four story stone house. The house has been in our family for generations. I’ve been told that when our ancestors were able to buy land it was a big deal. They even started a family graveyard on a ridge opposite of the house, which our family nicknamed “Over Yonder Forest”. Because of the tradition where we only use plain ol’ rocks to mark graves and plant fruit trees next to the rocks. After so many decades the trees have become a patch of woods. It's symbolic of the cycle of life and death, I believe. The older trees have even swallowed up the headstone rocks. We only know whose graves are whose by oral records. But as time progressed our family spread out and away from each other and the family land. Fortunately Memaw wrote down the names for the future generations.