“When a child is born, so are grandmothers.”
~Judith Levye
The official date is December 23rd. That is the birthday of little Elle, my granddaughter. However, for me it was January 2nd, when I turned around at the baggage area in the Boston airport and first set my eyes on the little angel in the stroller pushed by my son, John. That was the moment that I fell in love at first sight with Elle and became a grandmother.
I was blessed with spending almost five days in the life of Elle. Looking at her, holding her, feeding her, soothing her, and just loving her. I was also able to witness the love of her parents. It was truly a glorious time.
Since meeting Elle and becoming a grandmother, I have been contemplating on what it means to be a grandmother. It began with reflecting on what I wanted to be called. Nana? Baba? Memere? Oma? Did I want a unique nickname hoping for a unique relationship? The nickname is still up in the air. The meaning of “grandmother” is being turned over in my mind.
Last week in my cancer support group, two of the women told about a gathering of women they had attended the week before. A new grandmother brought together a group of women to share stories of what their grandmothers meant to them. What a great idea. I am considering doing this in person; but, first, I want to open up this blog to your stories. I would like to know what your most memorable moments have been with your own grandmothers.
Unfortunately, I never asked my mother what being a grandmother meant to her. She was a wonderful grandmother. She was loving, open and always had a full cookie jar. She and my father lived in a big house in the country where we could all return for an afternoon, a weekend or a year.
I only knew one of my grandmothers – my dad’s mom Blanche. I remember going to stay with her and my grandfather for a week or so during my summer vacations. She lived in the city and I loved the contrast of the urban environment to that of my country life. I remember staying up late to watch the news and eat cereal with her and Grandpa. I would call her when I was babysitting. She would always tell me to be sure to lock the doors so that I was safe. She always seemed to believe in me. When others in my life seemed to discourage my desire to be a doctor at age 11, she told me I could be whatever I wanted to be. I felt like she really believed in me unconditionally. I remember feeling really sad on the day that she passed. I thought, “My children will never know her.” I was sixteen and perhaps didn’t realize that my kids would have their own grandmother — my mom!
Flashback: A few years ago, I experienced some difficulty with my autonomic nervous system which resulted in a condition called “neuro-cardiogenic-syncope” — a long term for falling into a state of unconsciousness. For a short period of time these were becoming more frequent and each lasting longer than the previous one. During the syncope, my body would stop working, blood pressure would drop, breathing would cease and heart would stop. At one point, I flat-lined for almost a minute. I experienced what could be called a near-death experience.
During each of these syncopes I had the feeling of going someplace else in my consciousness. It was not just the blacking out of a faint. Rather, I felt like I was going to another consciousness. The long flat-lining experience (during a tilt-table test through which a medical professional was monitoring what was happening to me during these times) was the last and most dramatic. It was and is hard to put into words the experience of that syncope. The best way to describe it was that I felt like I was in the arms and love of one hundred grandmothers. Not the bodies of these women but the souls. I was being embraced by the unconditional love and acceptance of some mystical spirits. This love and acceptance to me was that of “grandmother.”
It is this love and acceptance that I want to give Elle.
I look forward to hearing your stories.
Letters 
As a child I was blessed with knowing all four of my grandparents. On my Mom’s side of the family we refered to them as Grandma and Grandpa Coons. Grandma Coons made the best meatloaf that I have ever tasted and I enjoyed my moments with them but they were limited as they lived out of town. On my Dad’s side of the family we refered to my grandmother as “Bammy” and my grandfather as “Pappy”. She made me homemade dresses and taught me how to sew. I was sure that I hated cauliflower but she made me taste it and I discovered that it tasted pretty good!! She always made it with a cheese sauce or a white sauce. When she became old her and Pappy lived with us for awhile and when Pappy had to go to a nursing home, she lived with us still but missed him sooo much. Bammy taught me how to make a knot when I was sewing with thread and so many other things but what I also remember was Christmas. We would rise around 5 or 5:30am and my Dad would immediately get in the car and go get Bammy and Pappy so that they could watch us open our gifts and the day did not start until they arrived! The last year that Bammy lived with us my younger brother helped her set up a small tree in her bedroom for Christmas and I still have the picture of her hugging him because he did this for her. I guess what I am saying through all of this is the fact that alot of love was displayed with both sets of grandparents and helped to mold me into what I became as an adult. By the way, both of my grandmother’s were really soft on all of their grandchildren and saved us sometimes from punishment because they would come to our defense and make our parents understand that, after all, we were just kids and I will always remember the undying love and pride that they felt when it came to all of us. Also, when my parents became old and sickly, they still would brighten up when the grandchildren and the great-grandchildren arrived at their home. They might be exhausted after the little ones left but they would talk for days about how much they enjoyed the visit so…..I have the feeling that you are going to be one of the greatest grandmother’s going because love is what it is all about!!
I had similar experiences of love, care, family gatherings, meals, etc. with my great-grandmother. But my grandmother was another story. Not that there wasn’t all of the love and caring, but it was “tough love”. She was a big, strong woman who lived in Philadelphia, PA. That was the first big departure from most people’s experiences. She was a city person, not a country or rural person. She lived in the same tough North Phila. neighborhood where I grew up. She worked in the cafeteria of an inner-city junior high school, and volunteered for the added responsibility of dealing with the toughest problem kids in the area gangs. I had special status because I was her greandson, and I was protected and looked after by many of her “adopted” grand children. She would hug me or smack me, but the same love was always there. She was a lousy cook, but a very great person, and she definitely started me on the road to being able to see women in general, and older women in particular, for the strong, loving people that they can be. She’s been gone for awhile, but thanks for making me think of her.
What a great idea about Grandmothers as they are so important to everyone. Grandmothers to me have more of an impact on todays youth and adults than people believe. Grandmothers seem to be the “glue”, for the lack of a better comparison, that keep families together. Case in point is my grandmother (bonnies mother). She was the meeting point for everyone in the family, and the village, for that matter. What a warm household my Grandparents had for anyone, family or not. I don’t think I can recall a time being there, when there was not at least one other person or family there as well. We grew up with our cousins and Aunts and Uncles around, that is what we new, and loved. Probably of everything that I can think of from my youth, the most single thing that sticks out in my mind that I miss the most would be those times being at Grandma’s, up on the hill with the wind howling outside, 10 degrees, but so warm inside with the family. Or those summer days around the pool, playing some sort of game with the cousins, and grandma watching through the window with a smile on her face. I knew that she loved and adored each one of us in a special way, and that is what everyone else felt as well, for that is why they returned so often. I have many memories of Grandma, I especially looked forward to the mornings, sitting around the table with breakfast, having a conversation about just anything. Or sitting at the table in the evening listening to the scanner and watching the fireflys dancing in the fields and yards. When she passed so did the glue, as family members started to scatter the country. She was an amazing woman that touched so many, and impacted so many lives. I look forward to the day when I see her again. Oh yea, and her cookies (and cooking in general) was amazing. The joke used to be that her cookies were the cause of many pregnancies, after all when she passed I think she had over 22 grandchildren. I can now hear the bells every night at the Church she attended for so many years, that were installed and dedicated to her by her children, what a great remembrance.
Bonnie – She lives in you, and that is all you need, no matter what you are called. Congratulations to the family, what a beautiful gift.
My paternal grandmother — going to visit her “up the hill” in the Fairmont, West Virginia, apple pie, apple butter, homemade yeast rolls, Thanksgiving and all the trimmings, pear trees and grape vines in her yard. Educated, teaching us piano basics, hearty laughter, stern looks in church in the mirror as she played the pipe organ — we knew we better stop fidgeting! The church Christmas show, Christmas candy, soloing “Yes, Jesus Loves Me.” Strict, but loving.
My maternal grandmother — a widow with 4 children, her green suitcase with yellow trim. The smell of sachet in the suitcase, her jewelry, her handkerchiefs. Excited whenever she’d visit. Homemade taffy and brownies. Our babysitter. Lenient in discipline. A survivor. A hard worker, a role model.