My Grammy's Hands

Something extraordinary happened to me yesterday--something I cannot explain, but something very real. I saw my grandmother's hand in place of my own.

I was peeling Granny Smiths for an apple crisp. For some reason, my grandmother was on my mind; I mean really on my mind. I remember thinking, "Geez, Gram, you  must be thinking about me because I am thinking about you." My right hand began to hurt like hell after peeling only a couple of apples and I thought I was going to have to stop, that I was not going to be able to make apple crisp. It was an important part of a get-together meal I was working on, so I determined I was going to peel eight pounds of apples in spite of the pain. At one point the stiffness became so uncomfortable I couldn't help but think about the arthritic pain Gram endured for years. It was then that I looked down  at my hand and, for a split second, saw my Grammy's hand in place of my own. I felt comforted. Fond memories of her in the kitchen made me forget my gimpy hand and before long smell of the the crisp filled the house.

Grandparents are a gift. I was very, very lucky to have live grandparents. Between the ages of 5 and 15, even though we lived on opposite sides of the United States (military deployment), my grandparents were a constant presence in my life. My brother and I received countless phone calls, cards, and letters. Gram used to end her phone calls by reminding me, "I have you and your brother with me in a picture on my night stand. Every night I give you a kiss goodnight." Once, when I was 12, my grandparents flew from Maine to San Diego to visit us. I recall my Gram and I sitting on the floor beside the sliding glass door to the backyard playing numerous games of jacks. My Gramp and Dad took Craig and I to see a Padres baseball game. We all toured the USS Independence together. When I was 15, we moved from Washington State back to Maine. We lived with my grandparents in Waterville for several months while my dad looked for work. After we moved to Topsham, we regularly visited my grandparents for a Sunday meal, or for a family gathering with my uncle, aunt and cousins at Reid State Park beach. Gramp always had a whiskey and water in hand and a smile on his face as he observed his family's goings-on. What amazing memories! When I graduated from high school, I move away to college and, unfortunately, I saw my grandparents much less frequently. I later joined the military and moved out of state. I visited them the few times I came home, but by that time, Gram developed Alzheimer's and communication became difficult. I am not the type to live with regret, but there is one thing I would willingly turn back the clock for: more time with my Gram and Gramp.

One moment you can be incredibly fortunate to have your grandparents in your life. The next moment they are gone. It is then, all you have are memories...and a longing to make more. I implore you to reach out to your grandparents more, kiddos. A simple phone call will completely make their day. The sound of your voice will bring a flood of pleasant memories and hours of discussion and reminiscing. The older I get, the more I realize my  parents appreciate nothing more than my time. I also realize they are aging and your time with them is short. Make a commitment to reach out to them more frequently. You will be so glad you did!

Love you!
~Mama