family
DD and I were talking the other day. I wanted to tell her about the movie I had just seen on Netflix, Becoming Jane. Ann Hathaway played Jane Austen, the famous 19th-century novelist. I enjoyed the movie, not so much because Ann Hathaway is such a great actress, but because I really LOVE Jane Austen and wanted to know more about her life. So I asked DD if she had ever read Jane Austen and she said, "no." NO???? NO????? WHAT????? You mean you never were assigned a Jane Austen novel in high school? No. I told her she absolutely HAD to read Pride and Prejudice. DD loved reading Oscar Wilde years ago. His plays are SO witty. I told her that Jane Austen's wit is just as funny and wonderful. She promises to read the book asap. She is coming over tonight. Maybe I can dig up the old copy I got from my mother, browned though the pages are and I think the binding is cracked, but OMGosh! She will love it, I know!
DD mentioned at one point in the conversation that she fears losing those she loves. I think she meant she is worried how she will react when I or her father die or someone else she loves. I told her that is the sad part of life. We are all mortal. I told her how I doubted myself when I was little. 3 of my 4 grandparents died before I was 10 years old. I never got to know any of them well and when they died I had very little reaction. But I had heard enough to know that grandchildren were supposed to be very sad and crying when their grandparents died. I thought I must be broken. What was wrong with me that I didn't cry.
It wasn't until much later, as week after DD was born in fact, that my 4th grandparent died. My beloved maternal grandmother. The sweetest woman in the world. She was amazing. A family matriarch. She sent airplane tickets each year to our family after my parent's divorce in order that we kids could fly to Chicago and visit for summers and winter breaks. I loved those visits. I loved her. I loved baking criss-cross peanut butter cookies with her. I loved hugging the soft plumpness of her. I loved how she talked. We didn't do the wash, we did the "warsh". She had great stories about how grandpa and she made it through the depression together. They ate a lot of corned beef hash, apparently. Her death devastated me. She died a week after colon cancer surgery. I remember speaking to her when she was going into the hospital. I was due to give birth, and she and I laughed about how I was jealous she was going into the hospital instead of me. I still get teary-eyed thinking about her. My generous aunt and uncle sent me a lot of her furniture and things. I treasure them. But more than that I treasure the things she taught me about the love of family and family traditions. I told my daughter that when her father and I are no longer here, one thing she can do is to pass on our best family traditions. Sharing the love we gave her with her children and grandchildren will be the best memorial of all.
DD mentioned at one point in the conversation that she fears losing those she loves. I think she meant she is worried how she will react when I or her father die or someone else she loves. I told her that is the sad part of life. We are all mortal. I told her how I doubted myself when I was little. 3 of my 4 grandparents died before I was 10 years old. I never got to know any of them well and when they died I had very little reaction. But I had heard enough to know that grandchildren were supposed to be very sad and crying when their grandparents died. I thought I must be broken. What was wrong with me that I didn't cry.
It wasn't until much later, as week after DD was born in fact, that my 4th grandparent died. My beloved maternal grandmother. The sweetest woman in the world. She was amazing. A family matriarch. She sent airplane tickets each year to our family after my parent's divorce in order that we kids could fly to Chicago and visit for summers and winter breaks. I loved those visits. I loved her. I loved baking criss-cross peanut butter cookies with her. I loved hugging the soft plumpness of her. I loved how she talked. We didn't do the wash, we did the "warsh". She had great stories about how grandpa and she made it through the depression together. They ate a lot of corned beef hash, apparently. Her death devastated me. She died a week after colon cancer surgery. I remember speaking to her when she was going into the hospital. I was due to give birth, and she and I laughed about how I was jealous she was going into the hospital instead of me. I still get teary-eyed thinking about her. My generous aunt and uncle sent me a lot of her furniture and things. I treasure them. But more than that I treasure the things she taught me about the love of family and family traditions. I told my daughter that when her father and I are no longer here, one thing she can do is to pass on our best family traditions. Sharing the love we gave her with her children and grandchildren will be the best memorial of all.
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