Kind Gestures, Loving Memories


Kind Gestures, Loving Memories

Last week, I wrote about my maternal grandmother. She was a very strong woman worthy of respect and admiration, albeit somewhat difficult to get to know. This week, I write about another strong, amazing woman: my paternal grandmother.

I have to preface my accounts of my paternal grandma by saying that my memories of her are mostly from childhood. Being as she lived on the other side of the country, I only saw her once every few years. Then, she passed when I was 21.

With this said, I know without a doubt that my Grandma loved me. One of my first memories is of meeting her for the first time. We walked up to this house and this (pleasantly plump) woman came out of the house. She smiled, laughed, and cried then hugged my Dad completely. Then, she set her sights on me, giving me the biggest most comfy bear hug ever.

The Little Things I Remember

Things I remember about my Grandma. She smiled and laughed a lot. When we’d go out east to visit, nearly all the relatives would gather for impromptu family reunions. My Dad was one of ten children so with all the kids and grandkids these gatherings were huge. Grandma just seemed to thrive and I think every single one of us believed she was our special person.

I remember she loved to knit and made the best mittens ever. One year, she somehow found out that I loved Lamb Chops (one of the entertaining puppets of the late variety show entertainer Sherry Lewis). She replicated the puppet for me. I still treasure it.

Grandma collected salt and pepper shakers. When she passed, every one of her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren received a set. Each was carefully marked for a particular individual and had a personalized meaning.

What Truly Matters

Grandma never really had much. She worked hard all her life. She took care of the farm and the first six kids while my grandfather served in World War II. Then, she raised the last few kids completely alone after he passed. Moreover, she suffered with terrible asthma and debilitating arthritis (which must have made knitting sheer hell).

Yet, I think Grandma would have counted herself as quite rich. She was surrounded by people she loved and who loved her. That was enough for her. Really, I don’t think a person could ask for much more than that. We’d all be so lucky to live such a rich life.