I never had the chance to meet my paternal grandparents; they died before I was born. My maternal grandfather also died before I was born. I grew up with one grandparent: my maternal grandmother. She was a hard worker, housewife, and mother. She made many mistakes in her life, but after my father died, she took care of me when my mom had to work. She instilled in me a love for music and art (along with my mother and late father). She was also very good at giving me structure when I got to her house after school, something that is very important for children. Homework, chores, dinner, free time, and then my mom would pick me up after work.
The downside was she could be very mean. She was mean to my mom when she was growing up and passed that mean streak down to me. She was sarcastic and, at times, immature and her words could cut you deep into your heart. She would, on occasion, punish me with a big wooden stick. I feared her, although I did see kindness from her too. She had her fair share of heartache in her life: the loss of her mother at a young age, and then many years later her husband, and then her daughter.
For years, I tried to understand where my grandmother was coming from but could never figure it out. I tried to maintain a good relationship with her when I got older, but it did not work out as I would have hoped. She favored my sister but my sister never took any of her crap, so to speak, and my sister reminded my grandmother of her mother—they look very much alike. To sum up our relationship, I always felt I was never good enough, smart enough, or lovable enough for her. She passed away a few years ago, and to this day, I really have no regrets other than what we could have had if she were different—because it did not matter how good I was or how helpful I was or how good I did in school, it was her and her own demons. I realize I did nothing wrong, I was just a kid….
For a while though, I had a babysitter who was the ultimate “grandmother”: she was kind and caring and when I think of her, I feel love. I think my sister and I were her “firsts” in baby-sitting and she was great. Also, she was married, so we got a two-for-one deal: a grandfather, too. She was never cruel, always happy; so was her husband. Her husband passed away many years ago, but she is still alive and has to be at least ninety now. She has baby-sat for many other children since my sister and me and also became a foster grandparent. When I would see her after I was all grown up, she would always be so happy to see me and would tell the “new parents”: “These are my first girls.” At my wedding, she sat at the head parent’s table with my mom and was announced over the microphone as being a grandmother to me. It was important to honor her on that special day for all the caring and kindness she showed my sister and me growing up. My biological grandmother could not come because of health reasons, but we did mention her name to honor her even though I felt a bit less love over it.
I think of my adopted grandmother as my real grandmother. My mom once said that she thought that Bessie was what made my sister and me the kind and caring people we are today. I think my mom did not give herself enough credit; my mother also had a role in how good we turned out to be. No matter how bad my biological grandmother treated me, it never changed who I really was. I did not become a version of her.
