Child,
I remember french toast, cinnamon and sugar mixed in a plastic bear with a flip top head, grilled cheese sandwiches on square perfect bread, tiny sweet pickles and flat Coca-Cola served over ice. These were my favorite things. I remember coffee can santas and snowmen, apple cider and countless gifts under the tree. I remember a tape-to-tape boombox with short wave radio stations, crackling static from around the world. I used to record the garbled messages and mix them into the spaces between songs. When I asked my Mom why I had gotten this gift, delivered in July, far from my birthday and giving holidays, she said, “Your Grandma loves you, you know.” Before that moment I had never considered it; her love was a constant, too easily taken for granted. She fed me, marvelled at how much I grew between visits and was content to sit together quietly. We did a lot of that last month when I visited her. She was tired and drawn, ravaged by illness and cure. She asked after you and looked forward to your arrival.
Child, your great grandmother passed away today. I am so sorry for you both, that you will never meet. She was strong and sweet and very beautiful. The music in your family runs through her; she could play any instrument and could pick up a tune by ear. She was always good to me. I think you would have liked her a whole lot.
I miss my Grandma.
pa-
It’s wonderful and frightening what early memories your child can resurface from your subconscious. It’s quite a lesson really, that as we challenge ourselves to become “good” parents, that what really matters is those memories you create with your kids. Not what clothes they wore or if they ate their broccoli, but the time we went for a walk in the rain or the time we drove to the beach at night or the time we…