Grandmothers
The irresistible influence of grandmothers on their granddaughters
My grandma Myrna passed away the year before I went to college, meaning that she never knew that I would graduate from the school she loved, nor that I met my husband there, nor that I would now be sitting with her great grandson bouncing on my lap. Grandma and I have always been very similar: social to a fault, never being afraid to reach out to a friend or family member from years by just to check in. I often think she would laugh and be most pleased to hear that on my wedding morning, I was texting my second cousin Katie, who also got married that day, miles away. That was the kind of connection she lived for.
I have her name as my middle name, and her mother’s name is my first: they have always been my greatest inheritance from her. Because of it, I have countless gifts from her and her mother, most significantly to me being the locket her mother was given by her father on their wedding day, and the milk stool my grandma was given on her wedding day, with her name painted on the side. She gave me the locket herself, telling me its significance in her matter-of-fact way. She thought it had to go to me because our name, Eleonore, is etched on the back. She was like that: she saw things as a connection between two people, and knew how to touch her granddaughters in a way no one else could. Every single one of us still reminisces about her wonders, and almost no get together goes by without us lamenting that she was never able to meet any of her grandchildren’s spouses or her own great grandchildren. I didn’t know how unique it was for her to have so much sway in us over ten years later until I had a family of my own.
My Mamaw, on the other hand, is still living, and got to be with me on my wedding day, and will soon get to meet Klaus, and it was on my wedding day that I received my greatest inheritance from her: my rings. My engagement ring is my Papaw’s wedding band, with a diamond Mamaw added to it when he passed away so that she could wear it for a while. The wedding band is her anniversary band, with a diamond for each of her children. Although I was not there when it happened, I treasure the memory that John asked my father for my hand, and then asked my mother for her parents’ rings.
Grandmothers leave an impression on their grandchildren that is immovable: all of these memories came rushing back to me when I read Laura Pashby’s story about her grandmother. I will never see sea green or blue glass without seeing Grandma, and I will never bake or use my mixer without thinking of Mamaw. My son is blessed with two equally wonderful grandmothers (and two living great grandmothers). Perhaps it is because I think so often of mine that watching him learn to love and adore his grandmothers is so special to me. In the modern world, we often do not value our family as highly as we ought to, and it is one of the greatest losses. Pashby is right to say that “inheritance blooms slowly”. It is impossible as a child to know how much you will treasure your family when you are grown.
Read all of Pashby’s story below; I hope it floods you with the sights and smells of your grandmothers, whether or not they are still with you.
