Both of my grandfathers served in the military—one in Korea and the other in World War II. This is a common narrative for many people my age, as countless women share similar stories of grandfathers who fought in various wars. Often, these veterans remain quiet about their experiences. My grandfathers were no exception. My maternal grandfather, Grandpa Joe, would only mention that he drove a truck in France. Meanwhile, my paternal grandfather, a decorated war hero who heroically drove a burning tank back to base, never spoke of his past. They all imparted a sense of reticence and the value of keeping certain things private.
Growing up, I was fortunate to have two sets of grandparents: Grandma and Grandpa on my father’s side, and Nana and Grandpa Joe on my mother’s. I shared a closer bond with Nana and Grandpa Joe, while my sister connected better with Grandma and Grandpa. They were the go-to grandparents when we were under the weather. I remember when my sister battled pneumonia; she spent a week on Nana’s pull-out couch. During my own sick days, Nana would make me buttered toast and read me “Tom Sawyer.” We were truly blessed.
Every family seems to have that quirky grandmother—the one who embraces her unique style and speaks her mind. While adults may often feel embarrassment over their antics, we adored them for their individuality. Grandma was particularly eccentric, collecting and dressing miniature bears, her apartment overflowing with them. She drove an enormous garnet Buick and had a peculiar phone routine; you had to let the phone ring twice and hang up before calling back, or else she’d think you were her friend Minerva and ignore your call.
In contrast, Nana embodied the classic grandmother archetype, with her milk-and-cookies warmth and regular church attendance. Although she didn’t have blue hair like many grandmothers, she had a gift that I cherish to this day: she taught me how to wield a knife properly in the kitchen. While we were learning to cook together, she passed away when I was just 13, but I still remember the lessons she gave me when I was just seven, from chopping celery to eventually preparing chicken.
Grandparents also instill in us the meaning of loyalty. Coming from what is often referred to as “the greatest generation,” they were more rooted than many of us today, often remaining in the same community for their entire lives. Nana and Grandpa Joe were lifelong Catholics, attending the same church where they made their First Communion together. Grandpa Joe was involved in numerous church activities, while Nana led the Women’s Club for many years. She was also the one who taught me my prayers. When she passed, she was laid to rest from that same church, a testament to her unwavering devotion.
Persistence is another invaluable lesson from grandparents. Whether through woodworking or knitting a blanket over months, they teach us to keep going. Grandpa Joe spent his life collecting unique coins, including wheat pennies and bicentennial quarters. His dedication resulted in an impressive collection that accumulated over $200 in bicentennial quarters by the time my children were born. That’s commitment!
Less than parents but more than most others, grandparents teach us about kindness. While they may have had their biases, they also exemplified respect. Nana and Grandpa Joe frequented the same locally-owned Greek diner, where they knew the staff personally. Their friendly conversations with the waitstaff, always asking about their lives, and generous tipping habits instilled in me the importance of treating those who serve us with dignity and respect.
Grandparents also introduce us to the realities of life and death. For many, the first real encounter with loss comes from the passing of a grandparent. I lost Nana when I was just 13, and in my grief, I sought solace in books. When Grandma passed while I was in college, I struggled to cope with the loss. Similarly, when Grandpa Joe died last year, my inability to attend his funeral due to distance and financial constraints brought about a realization of how such decisions affect family dynamics.
With age comes fragility; Grandpa Joe now relies on a walker and struggles with memory. Having moved to assisted living after nearly a decade with my mother, he embodies the delicate nature of human existence. Through our grandparents, we learn about the challenges of aging and how to approach these difficult aspects of life with empathy.
Although I don’t see Grandpa Joe often, living 700 miles away, I carry his name forward through my oldest son. I feel incredibly fortunate to have known all my grandparents, who offered their time and love, shaping my understanding of the world. I deeply miss them, especially Nana, who left an indelible mark on my life. They all had their imperfections, but they were remarkable individuals, and I was a lucky child to grow up in their embrace.
In conclusion, those of us who had the privilege of knowing our grandparents were truly fortunate. They imparted lessons that continue to resonate throughout our lives, and now, as an adult, I recognize just how much of who I am is a reflection of their influence.
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