Grandparent-less
I’m a creature of habit. In the midst of all the changes of my early adulthood, it was my grandma who remained consistent. Her house unchanged, her laugh ready and waiting for me to arrive.
I feel guilty because it feels like I’ve never mourned my other grandparents as deeply as this one. It feels unfair to them. They were no less important, but we had so much less time. I feel grateful for the dozens of memories I’ve captured of me and Doris. Any pictures that exist with my other grandparents are pre-iPhone. I still think of them all, maybe now even more that I have none left, but most of my memories are secondhand. They’re manufactured from the stories I’ve heard, but I’ve inserted myself into them so it feels as if I was there.
I think about my Granny Bobbie, who would give us $5 every time we left her house. And my Paw Paw with Two Doggies, who lived next door and would watch us play in his driveway. He cannot be confused with Paw Paw with One Doggie, who was kind and quiet, even in my elementary school memories. And Paw Paw Sal, who was never blood related to us, but you’d never think it the way he showed up for every event.
It feels unfair to mourn them less than my Grandma Doris. But really, it feels unfair that at 25, I’ve lost all my grandparents, an aunt, and an uncle. And, considering my parents chose a retirement community as our first home, I’ve said goodbye to many honorary grandparents throughout the years as well.
I know people experience much more shocking and heartbreaking deaths. I know it’s almost expected at this stage of life to lose your grandparents. It is still sad. I feel sad for the the years I missed out on with my other grandparents. Not until adulthood have I thought about the impact it must have had on my parents. To be raising small children while watching their parents pass away.
This time last year, I saw my grandma for the last time. As I was leaving, she grabbed my hand with a strength I didn’t think she still possessed. I said, “I’ll see you again soon okay?” She said, “I hope you’re able to,” and we both cried until my dad spared us from our tears by coaxing me out of the room.
I immediately had to drive three hours back to Baton Rouge and sit down to write my law review article. She passed away a couple weeks later; I didn’t make it home in time to fulfill my last promise. I knew immediately what had happened when my dad called at 6 am one morning in October. I went to my eight AM class, unable to think of what else I should do.
As crazy as it seems that it has been a year since I last saw my grandma, it’s even more startling that it’s been over a decade since all my other grandparents passed away. I think about her, Bobbie, Herbert, Paul, and Sal most days. I feel cheated in a strange way. How is it that I became grandparent-less so young? How is it that my own parents have gone on in life without theirs?
Becoming grandparent-less has been one of the first things to make me feel like a real adult. I don’t know if that makes any sense? A life-altering shift happened, and I went to class. I had my last moment with my grandma, the last moment I will ever have with a grandparent, and proceeded to write 10 pages of my law review article. Life continues. I don’t want you to think I was functioning normally in any of these moments. But that’s the point, you keep functioning despite it all. Life is sad and it’s messy, and throughout it all, I feel lucky. Lucky that my parents are mine, and that my grandparents are mine. Lucky that I can feel so many things as I move through the world. Lucky that I have felt so much love, and that’s why the losses hurt so much.
