WISHING I COULD TALK TO GRANDMA

           

Grandma passed away more than 45 years ago, and lately, I’ve been wishing she and I could have a good chat. I remember many things about my grandma, but now that I’m older, I so wish I’d actually made the time to sit with her, really listen to her stories and even take notes.

          Grandma was born in 1891 and she saw the world change in much the same way I’ve seen the world change in my time. For her, it was the ease of transportation, the ability to afford and obtain goods and services that weren’t available until she was in her forties. For me, it’s been the change in communication. Just by using my cell phone, I can talk to family on the other side of the country. Using my computer, I can look up my ancestors, order goods and services, keep track of my family and friends. Actually, I could undoubtedly do all of that with my cell phone as well, but I prefer my computer. There’s really no need to actually leave home or talk to anyone to stay in touch.

          Grandma was on her way to being an old maid at the age of twenty-two when my grandfather came calling. Girls in the hills of Tennessee were married young in those days and it was most likely the three fleshy moles on the right side of my grandma’s nose that kept the local young men from courting and marrying her…she could have been a witch (or so the story goes). My grandfather’s place was fifty miles or more from where Grandma lived. I wish I knew how he heard she was available, but the story is that he came courting in a suit he borrowed from his brother or someone else.

          Of course, Grandma didn’t refuse to marry him even though he was thirty-five years older. This was her chance to have a life as a married woman with a place of her own. I don’t think it turned out quite as expected because once she arrived at her new husband’s home, she discovered he’d already buried two wives who’d left eleven children for her to finish raising. That was in 1913 and by 1922, he’d given her another five children to care for and raise.

          Tax and census documents indicate grandpa was a sharecropper. It was hard scrabble farming in a Tennessee holler. In those days, you grew or made everything and your diet never ever included the four food groups on a daily basis. I know grandma raised chickens and pigs (There is an old photo of a pig being butchered with its guts falling out that fascinated me as a kid.), grew vegetables, gathered wild berries and nuts, and helped farm the land in that holler.

          By the time my mother was a teenager, my grandfather was more than seventy years old and had become bed ridden. So, in addition to doing the majority of the work around the place, grandma and my mother had to nurse, care for and change him on a daily basis. I know my mother’s four brothers still lived there, but I never heard any stories about how they helped with any of the work.

          Grandma never saw her family after she married because fifty miles was too far to go for a visit. She did eventually have contact with her youngest sister when they both lived in California. And, once she left Tennessee in 1946, she never returned, never saw her mother, father or her brothers and their families. It was as though that period of her life in Tennessee didn’t exist.

          Grandma left that rickety house and hard life with me and my mother. She rode a train for the first time which took them to Idaho where two of her sons were living. There, my mom met a man who became her husband and my daddy and Grandma lived with us. Her life improved some because we lived in a better house with indoor plumbing and electricity. I have fond memories of sleeping with Grandma, curled into her back with my nose pressed against her back where it met the mattress.

          Grandma’s first plane experience took her away from me. She’d been a given in my life since birth and I missed her so very much. I didn’t understand why she had to move to California to her son’s home until I was older and realized from various comments and stories that Grandma had been causing  problems in my parents’ marriage. She was so grateful to daddy for keeping her that no matter what problem/argument arose, she sided with daddy…mommy was never right. There may have been more to it than that, but I never learned anything else.

          You would have thought Grandma a very modern woman. She took to flying between southern California and Washington as though it were nothing. She came home for my high school graduation and my wedding. And when both uncles passed away, she flew back to Washington for the last time.  Rather than living with mom and dad or John and I, she had her own little place just across the valley from where I lived.

          I’m now as old as she was then and understand so much better how her life must have been. I regret I wasn’t old enough or wise enough to understand how limited her life had become. True, she made a few new friends in the complex and mom and dad took her grocery shopping and to the doctor, but her life was pretty much lived in her small apartment…she must have been very lonely and I wish I had realized that at the time.

          Grandma would call to chat, and being a busy wife and mom, I really didn’t want to take the time and/or resented the need to spend that time listening to her stories (repeated more than once) about her early life. Even when I was responsible for doing the grocery shopping or doctor duty, I think I rather resented the need for me to do so.

          Now, of course, as I said above, I’m her age and in some ways, my life is a bit like hers. True, I still drive myself wherever I need to go. I have a circle of friends with whom I spend time. I’ve remained in my house which is a blessing or a curse, depending on the day and what’s happening. I have more money than Grandma did, but like her, I don’t feel comfortable spending way beyond my means.  I’m also involved in exercise classes and my driftwood classes out side the home. This gives me access to a larger number of people than my grandma had access to because she didn’t drive.

          Then there’s communication. I talk to the eldest son once a week and rely on him when I have needs I cannot manage on my own, i.e., cataract surgery transportation. Younger son calls every now and then but doesn’t offer any kind of assistance. Aside from my regular friends and the people I see in class, I rarely talk to one of the neighbors (and I’ve been here fifty-seven years). My phone rarely rings or buzzes with a text. I guess you could say I’m a bit lonely…just like Grandma had to have been.

          I think that’s why I wish I could have more conversations with Grandma. I have a lot of questions to which she could supply answers. I’d love to know more about how she felt when she realized she was the third bride? How did she manage to help raise eleven other children while birthing five of her own. Did she feel loved? Did she enjoy sex? Just how grateful was she in her later years to have the advantage of electric stoves, refrigerators, television, phones? Finally, I guess I’d really like to know if she realized I did really love her even though some of my actions and responses didn’t exactly shout, “I love you.”

          More than anything though, I think I’d like to know if what I’m feeling at my age is what Grandma felt. Even though I’m way more busy and active than Grandma was, is my sense of loneliness, being forgotten, feeling needy without recourse, wishing for the ability to have some do-overs in my life how she felt some days.

          I’m so sorry I wasn’t wise enough to reach out across the valley that separated us way back then to spend time with Grandma and learn the answers to the questions I didn’t even know I had then. I wonder if everyone has regrets like this. If at some point when my kids reach this age, perhaps they’ll read what I’ve written over the years and find answers to their questions…if they have any.