Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the world.

Special Treat – Joyce Hernandez

Oct 10, 2006

 Growing up and missing my Grandma

 
© 2006 by Joyce Hernandez

I spent so many years with Grandma Mckee, Grandpa McKee and Great Grandma Bright I felt like an adult long before I was. My bro would play outside, I would stay with Great Grandma. I loved my Grandma's house, so big and full of antiques.

They had a staircase hidden behind closet doors, a laundry shoot we affectionately named "the hole", as in "throw your towel down the hole." Of course my bro always threw his toys down there, star wars action figures,army men, a few matchbox cars. I would have to go get them.

They had a huge yard, an acre when we were small. Lots of places to hide. My Grandma had me convinced she was friends with every bird on the block, she always knew where I was so I believed her. I hated those crows, every time I heard one I'd try to hide.

One day I decided to write the #5 in chalk all over the patio pillars which were made of red brick. I was a Speedracer fan, #5 was the number on his car. You can still see the #5 on a few of those pillars. That must have been some good chalk !

I remember occasionally waiting for my Grandma to go out to the other room so I could spin the spinning wheel she had in the dining room. Every once in awhile she heard it squeak and I'd hear her yell. "Get away from than darn wheel ! " Then I'd run off so she'd think it was my brother. (He's going to love me admitting that one)

Great Grandma was something else. Always calm quiet and sweet. She was born in England in 1899. She'd tell me things about when she grew up. We'd make jelly and cookies. She was the Grandma who let me have fun. We always had Campbell's soup for lunch. If I was hungry she'd say "How about a nice poached egg?" YUCK, I never took her up on that one. It must have been an English thing.

She made "bread and milk" for me, a depression dish I guess, but I loved it. Warm milk in a pan with vanilla,cinnamon,nutmeg,sugar,tear up a few pieces of bread. A cheap man's oatmeal I suppose but Grandma made it and I loved it.

She got me hooked on soap opera's. We'd watch them together. She knew every character, several years of their history and she never forgot any details. We'd get done with the soap's just before Grandma McKee came home. Around 4:30 Grandpa would walk in the door as well. Chiclets gum always in his pocket for me. Every night at 5:00 PM no matter what, dinner was served. Grandma McKee would always make a huge meal. No one can match her mashed potatoes.

 The best part of dinner was talking with my Grandparents. Every night without fail my Grandpa would ask if anyone had "asked about him" that day, like he was famous. He'd laugh when we'd tell him No. For the longest time I thought he was really under the impression he was the town star. Grandpa didn't talk much, a man a few words. When he did you paid attention. Over the years he fixed my toys, my bike, my cars. There wasn't anyone like my Grandpa.

My whole life I lived close to them until I married.

The day Grandma Bright died my Grandparents called to tell me. It felt like nothing would ever be the same. She was 96 and lived only a few miles away until I moved out of state that very year.

I was happy to move back home a few years later. My husband was stationed about 30 minutes from where my Grandparents lived. I talked to Grandma on the phone everyday and went to see her almost as often. Grandpa died within the next year but that year was worth more than anything money could buy.

 Now it was just Grandma McKee holding the family together. Such a strong but loving force. I saw her once a week at least, drove her around,spent the time, holidays.

Several strokes took her life after a year fight. She told me she wanted us to be okay. She just didn't want to leave us. She tried so hard to walk alone again.She did not want to give up.  Somedays she was so clear, I thought she'd recover. Other days she sounded so tired.Time came when she had to let go.

After weeks of my Mother telling her we were all okay, we'd all be okay. That she could let go. She finally did.

Holidays and even life just isn't the same now. I try to do everything like she did. Make the holidays nice, all the trimmings, keep the traditions. I do my best. It's not the same. My Mother doesn't make it for holidays, without the force of Grandma.No one does. It's hard I know. Six hours aways and many miles.

 My children tell me, nothing is the same. I know they are right. I keep trying.

I tell stories about the Grandparents and I remember. I want to make sure my children never forget them. My heart pulls when they tell me they just want to go to Grandma's again. They ask why cant it be the same. No one's there at Grandma's anymore so I keep on telling the stories. They are alive in our hearts. Those memories are the family.

Joyce Hernandez

sdgirljoyce@aol.com