Friday, January 1, 2021

I Never Asked

     I never asked. It's as simple as that. I don't know why I never asked him. Now, I sure wish I did. It just never occurred to me. Maybe it was because for me, they were never "real" people, more like historical figures in the stories of our lives. I wish I would have asked my dad about the loss of his own parents.

    If I would have asked him about it, he might have had some great advice on how to navigate such a loss. I was two when my dad's mom, my grandmother, passed away. I don't personally have any memory of her. I "think" I remember sitting sitting on the stairway landing of her house, playing with some toys I never saw again. I can see golden sunshine pouring through the curtains on the windows and the way it looks like there are pixies dancing in the air. My cousins have told me she was the best grandma ever. They adored her. They say she adored me.

    His dad, my grandfather, died several years before my dad even met my mom. I never felt any particular connection until one day, when I was twelve, I went to visit my best friends grandparents. As she introduced me to her grandfather he said he he knew exactly who I was, that I was Ralph Rowe's granddaughter. Suddenly I received one of the greatest gifts in my life. For one brief, shining moment my grandparents were vivid and real, connected with me in the here and now.

    My dad would sometimes tell little stories about his parents, from when he was a child. He spoke about the time his mother had a fight with her own brother. My dad was a wee child. He remembered there was a violent storm out that night. He was playing with his cars under the kitchen table while his mother sorted out a situation with her brother. He remembered it felt like Night on Bald Mountain could have been playing in the background. His mother was fierce and did not backdown, she stuck up for herself, that was who she was.

    My dad also told stories about how his parents liked to go dancing and to watch car races. His mother also enjoyed books, music, movies, and would play with her son. There is even proof in the picture of her riding my dad's scooter when he would have been about eight and she would have been about forty-two.

    When my dad was grown, he took his mother on a cross country road trip. Among other sites they saw when they reached California, was San Simeon, the Hearst castle. It was an epic road trip that my dad would sometimes mention. They both enjoyed themselves very much.

    I think my dad was as close to his mom as I was to him, maybe even closer. I don't know. He never really talked about that loss, ever, as we were growing up. He would just tell small stories about his parents lives when they were pertinent to whatever was going on in our own lives.

    I just wish I would have known or thought to ask about it, so I could have known them a little more, known him a little better, and have a memory of his words to guide me through this loss of him now in this physical world.

    We did take his cue a bit last night and included a few stories about him, some humorous, in our New Year's Eve conversations. In that small way we were able to carry him into this new year with us.



    

4 comments:

  1. Terri I love this picture. I never saw it before. That is a gift to me. Here is a gift for you, I remember Grandma's porch she had a fountain out there it was two or three levels high. The porch was a sunny place to play and she had a basket of toys for the kids to play with. I think this could be the memory you have. She always had M&M's in a small dish on her buffet, that she being diabetic would sneak quite frequently. She was a saver and had every letter she ever received in her bedroom closet. She liked to sew doll clothes so she had a barbie and ken to use as models. The attic was a scary place for me because it had pull down stairs that were just over the basement stairs so it was scary as a child to go up those stairs. In the backyard was a gazing ball and Lilly of the valley every spring. That was her favorite perfume which your dad would buy her for gifts. On time your dad bought her a new organ it was very nice and she loved it. Your dad would always get her the best gifts and she loved being spoilt by him. They definitely were very close I can remember this. In the kitchen was a table with benches in a little alcove. She had a string dispenser in the wall that was a lady and the string would come out her mouth. She had pretty colored dishes called Harlequinn we would each have our own color. I remember watching born free on her tv, another gift from your dad. I think it was color but not sure. Sometimes she would drive me to dance class in Belmont. We went to the Presbyterian Church in Belmont and I would sit next to her. She would always have paper and a pencil for me to write on because I was very fidgety. When we spent the night we would sleep in the back bedroom on the twin beds that were my dad's and yours. I would say goodnight Grandma she would say goodnight than me than her this would go on for an long as I wanted she never tried off the game. She was a snorer she went to Florida with us and we shared a room I remember that. She was an awesome grandma and she loved being with you. I think you lived in Indiana when you were a baby and we would drive her there to see you. I hope you enjoyed these memories. Love Linda

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    1. Linda--those are fabulous memories--thank you! My dad would always have small colored notebooks for us when we were little in church--and he would draw us little pictures and we would try to copy them--to help us not fidget and keep quiet during the services. He must have got the idea from her.

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  2. Beautifully remembered and written! Treasure the memories of your dad.

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