The Warmth of a Wrinkled Hand

Our years are numbered.  It's strange that humans are aware of our mortality and yet we are always surprised, even shocked, by death and loss.  And those wonderful people that we called grandparents when we were young?  If we are lucky enough to still have them in our lives we should make an effort to KEEP them in our children's lives.  As we grow up and have other things on our plates outdated things like grandparents get pushed to the wayside.  I'm going to avoid the fact that this is careless on our parts and, instead, focus on what we gain from maintaining a fantastic relationship with these shrinking, wrinkly loved ones.

When I was a kid my grandma spoiled me and gave me sweet hugs and kisses.  She had this ritual on the phone where I would say, "I love you." and she would reply, "I love you more." and then I would rush to say, "I love you the most!" and she would sigh like she'd just lost a race and say, "Oh you beat me to it!"  My grandfather kept butterscotch candies in his left breast pocket for me and he would tell me stories about giant tomatoes that spit. But my great grandparents?  I loved them, I spent holidays with them but I didn't really know them - they seemed really old to me since I was so young.  People their age were foreign to me, it was like they had passed their time of usefulness - I never spent any time alone with them to know anything about them.

When my daughter was born my grandfather was very sick in the hospital and he would die before she was five months old.  I often think about how much my children would have adored him and his big gravelly voice and his silly stories. I can't say I was very thoughtful of the older generation before spending 4 months in the hospital with my newborn and my grandmother while we watched her husband of 50 years cling to life but it was a turning point for me.  I got to know her as a person instead of just a grandma during those months and I got to see her eyes light up every time she held my daughter.  It took her mind off of everything else.  I'm very proud to say that I did not let that beautiful bond they had developed fall off of my plate.  I cultivated it, helped it grow and now the two of them - the wrinkly, teeny 76 year old woman and my sassy, red haired 9 year old - are thick as thieves.

I believe everyone in a child's life is a teacher and when I went back to work my daughter got the best - she had preschool for two days, two days with daddy and one day every week with Great Grandma.  They had tea parties and went visitin' to all the other old ladies, they played at the play area of fast food restaurants, they built cars in the living room with dining room chairs and "drove" around.  I have great pictures that my grandma took of my 14 month old asleep under the kitchen table or sitting with grandma in a big chair or "helping" grandma with the Christmas wrapping by sticking the To/From stickers all over herself - there were 30 in the package.   They spent every Monday together for four years - until she started kindergarten - just the two of them.

Maybe I started the bond for my grandma but it turned out to be for my daughter too.  She doesn't see older people as fixtures at holidays, as people you respect and love but never really know - she sees them as people, people she can learn from and love.  And when I see her with my grandma I know that someday she will feel that sting of mortality - she will know that years are numbered but I also know that my daughter will be a better person for it, that she will continue her own walk through life a little more well rounded because of the friendship she has shared with a woman who has lived more than 8 times longer as she has.  

The Little Boy and the Old Man by Shel Silverstein

Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."
Said the old man, "I do that too."
The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."
"I do that too," laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, "I often cry."
The old man nodded, "So do I."
"But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems
Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
"I know what you mean," said the little old man.