My Granddaddy is not well. It could be fast, it could be slow, but the end is nearing I’m not sharing this because I need sympathy, although chocolate is always welcome. I know you are sorry. I know you know what it feels like. That’s the amazing thing about grandparents; they are universally loved. I’m pretty sure even Freddy Krueger loved his and would pause before disemboweling me to tell me he is sorry.
Grandparents are like parents, but nice. They are the parents that raised our parents, which makes them akin to Greek Gods. Grandparents are the story tellers of the past combined with the wisdom givers of the present. Grandparents love the energy of our youth and believe in the brilliance of our futures. Grandparents are soft laps, warm cookies, and pockets of loose change for ice-cream cones.
My Grandmother passed away last November and I still get choked up when I think of her. I know there is no place safer or more comfortable for my Granddaddy to be than with Grandma, but it’s hard to face the lights of a generation on my family tree being turned off.
I’m lucky to have had my grandparents this late in my life. I’m lucky to have known them so well and to have learned so much from them. Selfishly though, I still want to be a little girl on a weekend getaway in paradise; my grandparents house. All I can do is pay it forward by practicing to be the best damned grandma that I can be, starting with being a kind enough mom to make my kids want to grow up to create grandchildren for me.
They are my ancesters. I am their descendant. This is the cycle of life. It breaks my heart a little every day.