Who cares about grandparents!
This post came out of a discussion on Facebook about Harry Wales ‘apparently’ (according to the media), avoiding a further discussion with his grandmother, the Queen, before delivering his statement on his family’s future.
So I googled the word ‘grandparent’. It dates from the nineteenth century, no surprises there then – when Victorian manners and sentiment provided a foundation for how we would live in the twentieth century.
But even diverse cultures back through centuries revered their elders and still do. Something I don’t just find mildly endearing. Instead, immensely powerful.
From the same source: “Grandparents are a valuable resource because they have so many stories and experiences from their own lives to share. Oftentimes children will listen to grandparents, even when they are not listening to their parents or other adult. Grandparents also offer a link to a child’s cultural heritage and family history.”
Therein lies my husband’s and my own experience and that of our children (now adults in their 30’s and 40’s). My paternal grandparents died before I reached 4 but I can vaguely remember books and dogs and carry that love to this day.
My maternal grandmother died a little later in my life, but I remember softness, a floral pinafore, feeding the chickens and loving the garden.
My maternal grandfather was singlehandedly the patriarch and we had the life and times of Swallows and Amazons, thanks to him. He was old-fashioned and opinionated, but not above taking me into his bed one night when babysitting, when I had a terrible nightmare. He was a kind man and always donated to those less fortunate. As a funeral director, he always maintained that at the final countdown, every man was equal.
Mind you, being ‘of an era’, he could never understand why I went to university. ‘All you’ve got to learn is how to boil water, duck,’ he said. He also saved me from blood poisoning when a shell pieced my heel and went septic. He always carried a gladstone bag filled with the most aromatic powders and unguents and he doctored my foot and leg for weeks and the mess gradually receded. He also said ‘As long as you’re alive with those legs, duck, your grandmother’ll never be dead!’ (I have very muscly calves!)
My husband’s grandparents were the stuff of family legend. Settlers in a Victorian farming district. Strong women left to survive on their own with husbands dying young. Fabulous humour, great dedication and love for their families. Granny must have known she was going to die that day. She walked into the village and paid her bills, had morning tea with her close friends, walked home to the farm, rang my mother-in-law on the next door farm to say she felt unwell and died in my M-I-L’s mini on the way to the doctor’s. My husband adored her and has acquired her quiet strength and his other grandmother’s humour. Good stock for our own children.
Our own parents were absolute backbones for our children and provide a wonderful memory-bank and were rocks when the kids needed them. On the one hand, farming stock giving our kids love of country and agriculture. On the other, love of the sea and all things maritime, of seeking knowledge and books. My mother outlived the other G-P’s by many years and she became the Wailing Wall, the brick, the strength that my own children could emulate as they strode forth into a world that was changing daily. Right to the last, my children would spend hours talking to their grandmother, listening to her stories and advice.
And they sat with her as she faded away on her last night.
My husband and myself are now grandparents.
I want to be to my little fellow what our grandparents were to us – in every way I can be. To date, he shows inordinate love and affection for us.
So trusting as he puts his little hand in ours, loving as he reaches up for a cuddle in secure arms.
We have a lot to teach him, a lot of hard-won wisdom to impart.
So yes, I do believe that any good grandparent has a significant role to play in children’s lives whether they are royal or not. And I finish with this quote: (the whole post is worth reading if you have any idea that you too might be a grandparent one day)
“A child’s perspective of what constitutes a healthy, normal relationship is shaped by the relationship that he or she holds with a grandparent. Through regular contact, a sense of emotional intimacy, and unwavering support, children can experience what a true, positive relationship should look like…” https://www.wilmingtonparent.com/family/five-reasons-why-grandparents-are-so-important/
Cheers.
Lovely post. I unfortunately never met any of my grandparents – my father’s parents died before I was born, and although my maternal grandfather heard the news of my birth, he died a few months later and we never met. My maternal grandmother died when my mother was 18. I have never know what it is like to have grandparents, though I remember my parents relishing the role when it came to their turn.
It’s a role I never expected to live but a role I learned heaps about. Thank you so much for your kind comment.
Three of my grandparents were immigrants. One grandmother died before most of us were born. I wish my grandparents had told us stories of their childhood in their home country, their journey to their new country, and something about their own parents.
Imagine the combined stories, experience and wisdom! One thing I noted with my kids is that when they were younger, they would have to entice the stories out. More recently, the stories came because the grandparents themselves wanted to recollect.
My grandfather was a quiet person and told us nothing. I only learned a little from my aunt, as she was getting dementia, when in her 90’s. My maternal grandmother told me a little about her childhood in Poland. My dad’s family knew little of their mother’s childhood. They didn’t even know, what her real name that was on her birth certificate was. I guess that generation, in our family at least, just didn’t share family history. But other’s have told me the same. Thank goodness for Ancestry and the internet. We have found distant cousins that way and have even met cousins from other countries.
We found out quite a lot from Ancestry about my husband’s great grandfather, an Italian immigrant who became a farmer and butcher in the family’s district here in Australia. OH tracked his home in Italy down and we are trying to make contact with distant relatives. 🙂
I think this post grew most specifically from some comments I made on one of your FB posts and I think you might have misunderstood my point. There is a world of difference between learning from, wholeheartedly loving, and still missing wonderful grandparents and needing their approval for making life choices that are right for oneself. Part of what I learned from my grandparents (among so many things) was a sense that I was not only equipped to choose my own path, but I was entitled to do so without guilt or obligation other than those feelings of love that were a foundation of our relationship. Part of that foundation was that I knew they loved me enough to want for me what I wanted for myself.
Not at all, Rebecca. The post grew most specifically from much younger folk who seemed to have no respect for age and commitment. But the point is, it made me think about grandparents and grandparenting, especially as we are now grandparents ourselves and that is a whole new ballgame, I’m telling you! And yes, I agree with you on every count above. But poor Harry doesn’t have that choice because of the peculiarities of having the Head of the Commonwealth of Nations as his grandmother. But I don’t intend to go down that road again. I’m so pleased you commented both on Facebook and here and love you for it!
Love you back.
XXXX
I only knew my paternal grandmother. She came out to Africa to look after me when I was a baby, whilst my parents worked; and she was my partner in crime. We went for long walks; we went fishing; we made mud pies. She taught me how to make a really good stew (although I don’t do mine with a fag coming out of the corner of my mouth…). I loved her dearly!
Sounds like my kids’ grandmother, Nicky. She smoked as underline to everything she did. 😉 And yes, like you, we all loved her dearly.
I only knew my Maternal grandparents, we lived with them for a while when small and mum divorced, I think I got my love of gardening from Grandad, he was a great walker too.Nana was funny although fairly quiet, both were a constant in my growing up, I shared so much with them both, and still miss them. Jeff’s mum Nanny Wales was loved by us all and by our friends and their children, she adored them all. They used to call her Nanny Wales too. I think people forget as we get older we do learn from experiences we have had and we try and be supportive to those younger than us. 🙂
That’s it, Libby. Despite that grandparents may be a different generation, they still have a collective wisdom on how to live life in the best way against the odds. It’s worth its weight in gold and is sorely missed when they are gone.