The Grandma and Grandpa Factor

My grandparents were put into my life for different reasons than most others'.

I didn't have the usual relationships with my grandmas and grandpa. Most visit their grandchildren now and then, send them money, see them on holidays. Not to say that they don't love their grandchildren, but the relationships are normally separate, even distant.

With my parents in disarray with their divorce and erratic work shifts, I was a lone three-year old. No cat to snuggle with when they fought, no friends to fall to (who really does at three?). Luckily, I had Nana and Grandma there to guide me.

Grandma, or May, was my knowledge. I stayed at her house every other week, and I could draw an exact map of the way it stayed for the entire time I was there. The gold and green couches, the mirror next to the bathroom that showed my growth every time I left my room, the stars on my ceiling that she brought back from Newfoundland, the orange wood stove in the rec room and the red leather chair that took its place, the piano-painted-red that I spent hours upon hours practicing on, Grandma sitting next to me. She taught me so much, from my appreciation for literature to my piano skills. She always made me drink my milk and eat my "little trees". Sometimes we would walk down to Dairy Queen, take the cones back to the park and just sit on the swings or on a bench and watch the sun set. She taught me morality, sensibility, integrity, and every day, told me that she was proud of me.

Nana, or Winifred, was my spirit. She would stay with Mom and I every other week, and we went through so much together. We raced in the park, laughed for hours at an old video game, struggled together to get through exam review. She would do art homework beside me, so we both had something to show for it afterwards, and I was always jealous that she had so much talent. I loved going to her apartment - I used to stay on weekends, just to see that my Nana was so cool; she had her own apartment with a balcony, and it smelled like my Nana: comforting and protecting. She introduced Sheba when I was 12, and I can still picture the little white kitten looking up at me for the first time, knowing that we would have a great friendship, the little deaf kitty and I. Nana showed me generosity, strength, pride, and what it meant to be full of life.

Nana soon grew old and had to stop driving, eventually moving in with my Uncle. I grew up, our visits stopped, and I saw her monthly, if that. My disappointment in aging grew. I hated that this had to happen, and just wanted to run through the park once more, to see who would win the race.

Grandma passed away two days after I returned from France in 2000. I have never cried so much in my entire life. I was angry at myself for not being there: how could I go to France when she was sick? I was angry at her for leaving: what would I do without her? How would I survive? Who would knit me musical Christmas stockings and help me practice piano? Who?

Grandma's death fell hard on Grandpa, Gordon, with whom I had hardly any relationship. He had softened from the harsh man I knew growing up. Once I could have adult conversations with him, I realized he was there all along, helping me with homework, "toughening" me in his own way. When my mom and Paul, my father, refused to help me with school in 2004, Grandpa stepped in and co-signed a loan and told me "You have it in you to succeed. Don't screw it up."

Currently, he is in the cardiac ward of a hospital over one thousand miles from where I am, possibly getting surgery on his aging heart. I've called, but haven't managed to talk to him yet. I can only hope and pray for the best.

* * *

At my grade eight graduation, I won three awards and was nominated valedictorian, or class president. During my speech, I glanced over to my family. My mom and Paul were as far apart as possible in the line of community-centre-seating; they both were clearly content, but on their faces seemed accustomed to my success. My Uncle sat next to my mom, smiling ear to ear at me, cheering me on in his head. Between my Uncle and Paul sat Nana, Grandma, and Grandpa: all crying. Nana, faced stuffed in tissues. Grandma with her warm smile. Grandpa with tears down his cheeks, trying to hold it in, like a true McDonald.

I paused in my speech, if only for a split-second, and smiled.

* * *

I realize now that I am not, and have never been, alone.

Nana calls me from time-to-time to check up on me. She is always so happy to hear that I am succeeding, and I attribute my fun spirit to her. She has striven through so much and I am proud to be a descendant of her strength.

Grandpa not only signed the loan, but he always wants to know how I'm doing in school. He is genuinely proud of me in all my accomplishments, and I am genuinely proud to be even half the man he has been.

I keep Grandma's picture next to my bed wherever I go. She is smiling down on me from wherever she is with her warm and loving soul in her smile. I drink milk like crazy, and could not survive a week without broccoli. I treasure each day because of the things I have learned from her, in her life and in her death.

* * *

My grandparents mean the world to me, and I hope my mom will be as important a presence in my children's lives as my grandparents were in mine. I can only dream that I will be as close to anyone as I have been with them.

Please pray for my Grandpa.

--Jam