Twenty-seven years ago today, I became a grandma. Grandparenting has been and is one of the most glorious roles of my life, but I often say I went kicking and screaming into it. I was only thirty-nine when our daughter, Stacey, told us she was expecting. I was working full time. I did volunteer work. I traveled. I felt like I was not only too young to be a grandma, but also too busy.
Our family has been laughing about all of the quirky names people come up with for grandmothers. Me Me, Nana, Memaw, Gigi, Yaya, Mawmaw—to name a few. My grandchildren (and countless others) call me Gammie. I wonder if I am not alone in sometimes resisting the wonderful but new.
What I know is that I did not think about that name. It is something that slipped out of my lips like the oohs and aahs at the Fourth of July fireworks.
Early Monday morning on January 8, 1990, that is how I introduced myself to my first grand, Bradley Joseph Zelenak. “I’m your Gammie.”
Last year I wrote a grandmothers memory book for him for Christmas.
Brad has the only copy for now but I may publish a slightly different version because the pages are sprinkled with wisdom he came to share.
It is truly amazing how your sweet heart and beautiful mind processes life. The day we carved your first pumpkin it was getting late and your mom wanted you to get into the bath, but you were still having fun with your jack-o-lantern. Your grandpa had the idea to bring your pumpkin into the bathroom.
While you can’t always have a bath by jack-o-lantern light, you can almost always enjoy a soaking bath by candlelight. In the summer of 1997, you were in the tub. You had your entire body submerged, with just your face sticking up out of the water. Because your ears were covered, you were bellowing out very loudly.
“GAMMIE, I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY PEOPLE ARE SO UPSET PRINCESS DIANA DIED. DON’T THEY KNOW SHE IS IN HEAVEN WITH GOD?”
Knowing you were attending a church in the Bible Belt, I wondered what you thought about where heaven was, so I tapped you on the shoulder and motioned for you to sit up so you could hear me. “Buddy. Where do you think heaven is?” I asked.
Submerging yourself again, you answered the question. “WELL, GAMMIE, IT IS RIGHT HERE; IT IS IN OUR HEARTS.”
I breathed a sigh of relief that your precious view of life had not been washed away by dogma.
Over the years, we shared many conversations about the meaning of life. The depth of your thinking has been consistently remarkable at every age.
I recall our being in the car one day. You may have been about four. You said you wished you had a great big house. I asked why you wanted that. You began to list off everyone in your life. You wanted us to all live together. It made me feel sad to know you were always without someone you loved.
Another time, your grandpa and I took you fishing out at Pitcher Lake. When your grandpa caught a fish, you said to him, “I wish I was you.” Isn’t it remarkable that you did not say you wished you had caught the fish instead of your grandpa? Your disposition was so filled with empathy. You knew you would have liked to have the experience of catching a fish, but you would not have that at someone else’s loss.
I know your life is still just unfolding, but I can see you as an important being in the world. Every stage of your life you are more aware than most. You are loving, and kind, and generous, and thoughtful, and you have a way of seeing the world that is broader than most.
And here you are, turning twenty-seven. You recently turned down a big promotion that would have required a move because you were not willing to do for money something your heart was not in. I am still learning lessons from you.
Happy Birthday, Bradley, from your Gammie!
