grandparents

Becoming a grandparent makes getting older something to look forward to - all the fun of parenting, without the hassle.

Going From No Visitors To Four Grandchildren Over For The Weekend
Two grandsons came with their parents on Friday night. The eight-year-old, the youngest, was hoping to go on the anniversary trip with his parents. It was not a trip for him. It was evening and the boys decided they would have frozen pizza as we had already eaten dinner.
By Denise E Lindquist4 years ago in Families
Honest, Brave, and Generous
My grandma's birthday is March 11th. She died back in 2018. Her birthday is around the same time as my brother's, so we would often get together for joint celebrations. The last time I saw her was at one of those birthday lunches. I remember my aunt somehow managed to pay that time around. My grandma was less than thrilled about that, but we were still happy to be together.
By Jessica Freeborn4 years ago in Families
I Just Love Spending Time With The Grandchildren As They Are So Darn Cute
Julianna turned two in December. She is our youngest grandchild although there is one on the way. I watched as she approached the puppy. She had something small in her hand. I told my daughter as she was right by her. She went over and took a tooth from her hand. Julianna was attempting to give the tooth back to the puppy as it was a puppy tooth. So cute. Next, she proceeded to check out the older dogs' teeth and to show them to her auntie. I think she may have been wondering if the big dog was losing teeth too, or maybe making sure it wasn't a tooth that belonged to the bigger dog.
By Denise E Lindquist4 years ago in Families
Medicare Insurance Agent
When you are about to retire, you have a lot going on and many things to consider. Your mailbox begins to get overwhelmed with millions of fliers and invitations to buy their medicare product. The countless number of mailers can leave you feeling completely lost. You have been transformed from an employee who was able to lean on their employer to make these difficult decision, to someone with little to no insurance knowledge having to make these decision on your own.
By Kevin Edwards4 years ago in Families
when I leave, remember me this way.
I often think about my grandpa, Ernest Lovejoy. I know I know, what a name. Though he was quite the guy. I didn’t spend a lot of my life by his side, though I like to think he has always been there from the start. He held me when I was born, I think at least. I don’t have any pictures, but sometimes I like to turn the lights off and make a picture in my head, it makes me smile. He left this world a few years ago, when I was a little bit younger, and a little bit dumber. I cried a lot. The tears never seemed to slow. I wrote him a letter. I never got to know if he got it. I hope he did. He was the first person, and only person close to me that I've lost. It holds a weight in my heart, though I don’t think I want to rid myself of this weight any time soon. He always seemed to make me smile. He always seemed to care. His hugs were so nice. He always smelt of cigarettes, but that was okay, only for him though. One day, many years ago, we were living with him, and my brother crashed his bicycle when I was riding on the front pegs. I cut my lip open and I was screaming bloody mary. Though the moment I got back home, my grandpa came up to me and said that we should go get ice cream for the lip, and so we did. It was quite nice. He may have left me, but his memory will never. Its hard to pull yourself up when you lose someone you love. I don’t think you have to though. I don’t think you have to, because I don’t think you ever fell down in the first place. I think that when we lose someone, whether its forever or temporary, we lose a piece of ourselves. It just takes a little bit of time to find a placeholder. Though filling that gap will never mean forgetting their beauty. I know that now. My grandpa was an incredible human, one of few I will never forget. The spot he held inside me has been filled many times since then, though he still follows me. To lose someone is a pain no person should ever experience. Though it is one we all will. Being sad and holding grief is something we all should do. Tears hold stories that will water the planet. Pain holds strength that only you can understand. Grief holds serenity only a pure mind can explore. I think about all of this when I think of him. More after too. I wish I could talk to him, just for a moment. I talk to myself as if its him, but its not the same. Though I think there’s a beauty in those wishes, and I don’t think you should ever stop making those wishes. They keep you grounded. They keep you true. I wish he were here, but I suppose he always has been. In my own way, in the best way. His most pure moments. His eyes when I stayed looking at him. His stubble when I’d give him a hug. His smell when I’d wake up and sit on the porch with him. His hands when I would grab them to show him something. He stays there, in a million ways and more. Still its hard not being able to see him. That’s okay though. And I think I’ll l always be okay with this.
By Cyris Green4 years ago in Families
the perfect grandmother
‘Maa’ technically means mother in Hindi. Its what papa called her, but its also what we, her granddaughters called her too. Because she kind of was like our mother too. I always said ‘no matter what happens, Maa will always be there,' and I believed it: she was an institution in our family and no one ever imagined life without her. By the time I knew her and loved her she was short, fat and had a waddle. (I’m allowed to say it because I was her favourite, but you aren’t allowed to laugh). She was perfect to me.
By winnie4 years ago in Families
Sitting in the Fire with You, My Heart Sings
Dear Mosom, I never knew I wanted to be adopted until it happened. You’ve expanded my understanding of what it means to be family and what it means to be human.
By Kelsey O'Toole4 years ago in Families
Home
I came across a photo of you in my old phone. It was a blurry shot of you laughing while eating a sandwich during our trip to Australia from years prior. We were having lunch then, and I was seated across you, while the others were seated in another table. I remember pointing the camera in your direction and asking you to smile but you gave me a hearty laugh instead, without even checking whether you were in frame, or not, I pressed on the shutter button. Hence, the blurry situation. Aside from that, there really isn’t any deeper meaning behind that photo, but like a princess who found her prince charming, and lived happily ever after, it’s one of the photos of yours I cherish the most.
By Arung4 years ago in Families
The Root
Deep within the process of growing up, lives a darkness that’s thick and twisted, like earthly roots intertwining with unmovable rock, and engulfed in 10,000 fires. It’s near impossible to see through this darkness, so you depend on the heat of the flames to guide you. Your skin is constantly burned, damaging your sense of direction with each new festering wound. Eventually it’s hard to breathe, as the darkness spreads, encouraging intense fear. You start to realize this darkness, is self created, making you fear it even more. You learn how to ignore it, letting it suffocate growth in everything attached to you, adapting to it as you become stuck in it. It gets to a point where, you’ve learned how to put a cover over the pain you’re enduring, so to speak. Like “it’s there but, at least I don’t have to look at it”. Resolving any accountability to rip that blanket off, and clean the mess underneath with your bare hands. Cause that’s what it would take to unravel those thick roots from those intimidating rocks, allowing the fires to die down. Then maybe, just maybe your roots will breathe again.
By Hevin ShaNara Rose4 years ago in Families
Grandmothers
Naturally, the details of personal experience vary enormously, but there’s a charming ideal of what a grandmother is that we can imagine or piece together from fragments of benign memories. Perhaps when you were a child, when your parents and siblings were away for some reason, you spent a couple of days on your own just with her at her house. You were six, you helped in the kitchen, there was a special smell in the cupboard where she kept the plates and a strange set of dark green glasses; she had a funny toaster with a large red lever; and a special little fat knife only for butter. She took you to a farm in her little car and you fed a carrot to a goat and she told you about a pet pig she had when she lived in the country as a child. She cut up an apple in a special way, removing the whole peel in one wonderful long spiral. And she gave you a thin mint chocolate and she laughed when you didn’t really like it. But she didn’t mind. She gave you supper on a tray and let you watch television, sitting on her big sofa.There was a wooden chest with her special things: some old coins, a fan made of ivory, a tiny pencil made of gold, a photo of her at a beach and a slightly sinister one in which she’s standing next to a man in soldier’s uniform which she says was taken ‘during the war’. You were being introduced to an outside world bigger than your parents. It was alien but because of her involvement, it is still one you are connected to. A grandmother can function as what the British psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott called a transitional object. A transitional object (like a favourite blanket or an increasingly grubby knitted rabbit) stands for home, but it can also accompany the child in its early forays into the wider world. It provides an extended psychological life-line back to maternal love and security. In its presence the child feels emotionally safe and can therefore risk experimenting with things that are at first a little frightening or alien. The grandmother is kind and gentle and in her reassuring presence the child can start to encounter ideas that are potentially distressing: the fact that the world is very big, with a huge, complex past and filled with strangers.There is a sweet alliance of the elderly grandmother (who is gradually becoming weaker) and the young grandchild (who is slowly becoming stronger). But at the moment, from opposite ends of the spectrum, they both understand frailty quite well. There’s an open-ended tenderness in the Grandmother’s attitude. Her awareness of her own short tenure on life makes her feel the preciousness of mere existence. She’ll probably die before the course of your adult life is established. She might not be able to talk about Minecraft or know how to make a spaceship out of Lego, she can’t make an obstacle course round the sitting room out of cushions and upturned chairs. But she’s very interested in whether you still like Toblerone and if you might be feeling a little bit cold. She may be the only person who simply wants you to happy. She’s good at being cosy. It’s nice to snuggle up to her while she reads to you. She embodies a species of wisdom: the knowledge that achievement is in the long-run over-rated, that simply being comfortable sitting next to another person watching a gardening program on television, or carefully watering a potted geranium in the company of a small person can be deeply important.
By dhamu4 years ago in Families
A Guardian Angel on Earth
Dear Gma, It is still surreal, even though it’s coming up on 12years since the last time I was able to hear your voice and hug you tight. Every time someone mentions that I give “the best hugs”, you are the very first person that I think of, because you were such a hugger, a hug from you was the definition of comfort. Anything that reminds me of you haunts me emotionally because of the pain I still feel knowing you’re gone, but then a peaceful feeling sets in quickly because you have always been my peace, my safe place. I remember you as a caring person, a loving person, a goofball, so smart, and non-judgmental. You taught me to see people as people, and that everyone has unique qualities about them, because of you I was color blind, size blind, deformity blind, I literally saw people as people and I was kind to everyone, and I learned to love so hard because of you. I would be such an emotional mess, and you would snap me out of it, just by simply being you. You would listen to me and give advice and a different perspective on life. When you gained your wings, I was lost in my darkness, I didn't have you to guide me through it like always. You were my guardian angel here on earth, and I never knew you were in so much pain yourself. You even tried to keep me safe from knowing that, as much as you could anyways. You never wanted me to be sad. You knew I needed you, I know you still know that I still need you. I appreciate the signs you send from time to time.
By CJ Leydozo4 years ago in Families
Open Letter: To My Late Grandfather
Dear Nana-ji, This feels a bit strange... to write to you after all this time. Let me introduce myself, I am your granddaughter and your oldest grandchild. Nice to meet you. After 30 years, this is the first time I've actually sat down and thought of you. I am writing to you today, well, to simply say thank you. Without you, I wouldn't even know where I would be. This is supposed to be a letter to my hero, a mentor, someone who has pushed me to be the person I am today; however, there is a whole different meaning for that to me. YOU are my hero, and sadly I never had the opportunity to even meet you.
By She, The Soldier4 years ago in Families