And All She Embodied
When I was a girl, all eight of the children in my family revered our grandmother. We looked up to her in a very special way. In her presence, we wanted only to be good. Even sibling quarrels were set aside.
What was it about my grandma? For one, she was consistent in her manner and her actions. We knew what to expect, which was comforting.
She was ever calm, never flustered. On Friday nights, grandma and grandpa brought fresh baked goods to our house and an interest in whatever we had to show or tell.
We loved her baking, cooking, and her gardens. We loved how she and grandpa respected each other and us. To think of it, there wasn’t anything we did not love about her. We loved who she was and how she was. She had a special way of being. In a world full of people who are constantly doing, she was content just being, being herself, being with us, being her age and at the grandma stage of life.
My grandparents were not flashy. They did not have the resources or desire for it. Their home was humble but warm and I would describe my grandma as modest.
She walked to the library when she wanted a book to read. When it snowed, she put her boots over her grandma shoes and a coat over her grandma dress and shoveled off their porch and sidewalk.
I never heard her complain or speak ill of anyone. She was truly worthy of the high regard we had for her.
Fast forward several decades and I am now a grandma. I love the role as much as I loved my own grandma. It surprises me to hear people using the word grandma in a pejorative way, one that suggests old and diminished. It has got me wondering where grandma as I knew her has gone.
Many baby-boomers I know are not called grandma by their grandchildren. Perhaps because they don’t feel old and diminished, the word and its connotations do not fit. It seems that the word grandma, but not the role I am happy to say, has lost its luster.
By the way, we are a part of the trend, our grandchildren call us Omi and Opi as established by my German born husband. I don’t think it really matters what we are called, it matters how we feel about the role and the stage of life. It matters whether we are able to transcend the cultural messages about aging.
Why would we not respect a stage of life, one that it is an honor to achieve? In our youth-obsessed society is it a liability to grow old? Some things we can only learn through experience. Have we stopped valuing them?
I suggest the qualities my grandma had are worthy of the admiration we had for her and all she embodied. That admiration made us want to emulate her and not to fear growing old. We thought that being old came with an elevated status.
Perhaps the word grandma has just gone out of style, dated like the ringer-washer my grandma used and the skirt, blouse, and stockings she wore daily. No matter what we she is called, I suggest that the qualities grandma embodied are valuable perhaps more than ever. Let’s reclaim grandma, as a representative of aging gracefully. Let me introduce you to my grandma.
Grandma was wise.
She was gentle but strong.
She was kind and steady.
She did not waste energy or resources by overusing them.
She was content with enough.
She was at peace with herself.
These qualities are cultivated through experience and experience takes time.
Let’s reclaim the essence of grandma as a wise woman, a way-shower of how to live and grow old and to be worthy of the high regard of children.
To all the wise women, grandmas or not, who embody acceptance of what it is to be fully human, happy Grandparents’ week!
