I often remind my children how lucky they were to have known all of their grandparents. And though their paternal grandparents have passed, they got to know and love their Granddad and Nannie Annie immensely.

All of my grandparents were born in the late 19th century. They survived World Wars, the Depression, and the Spanish Flu. Life was tough, and it was undoubtedly less prosperous. The shame was that three of my four grandparents passed away before I was even born. I missed growing up with most of them in my life.

My maternal grandfather died when my mother was only three years old, and my maternal grandmother died on Victory in Europe (VE) day. My paternal grandmother was born in 1884, and my paternal grandfather was born in 1898. The fourteen-year difference in age didn't prevent them from marrying and having a child, my father. My grandmother died from cancer at the age of 72 in 1956. Fourteen years later, my grandfather passed away from a heart attack at the same age, 72. 

As a consequence, my paternal grandfather was the only grandparent I knew. I was only eight years old when he died, and those memories are now few and far between.

I remind my daughters to cherish their grandparents, as they are an essential part of understanding your ancestral roots. Enjoying some treasured moments with your grandparents is a big part of being a kid.

As they grow into adulthood, they are fortunate to still share their lives with their maternal grandparents, Grandpa and Nanny Helen. They are two lucky girls.
Sorry about that. I think one of the greatest things about having grandparents around is the more rich interpersonal weaving of stories/communications.
2021-03-28 02:59:53