As I’ve said here before, family is pretty important to me and Charlie is lucky to have a slew of grandparents who love him to death. My grandparents played a pivotal role in my life as a little kid, so I work hard to make sure that Charlie knows his. He is simply in love with my dad (my mother’s second husband) and we are looking forward to his first meeting with my biological father, stepmother, and half brother at Thanksgiving. They live in Texas, so the visits aren’t as frequent as we’d all like them to be, but we’ll make sure this first one is full of lots of quality time.
But behind every moment of joy as I watch Charlie interact with his “grands,” there is a touch of sadness. Fourteen years ago this week, my mother lost a relatively short battle with cancer. I was 19 at the time, a junior in college, smack dab in the middle of my teenage rebellion. I didn’t handle it very well. The couple of years after her death were a very dark time for me. If someone had told me that I’d be living happily today with a wonderful husband, an adorable baby, a house, and a career I love, I would have laughed for hours. Back then, my life was a mixture of pining after my mother and being angry at her for leaving me. In fact, some of that anger stuck around all the way up to my wedding day, when I finally felt like she was “there” and I could be at peace with the fact that I would just have to feel her presence. Since then, I’ve learned to appreciate the people that are present in my life, especially those who stuck with me when I was at my worst. It took a while, but I got there.
Now that I have Charlie, a part of me is pining for my mother all over again. I find myself wondering what kind of grandmother she would have been. Would she have been like her parents were to me? My relationship with them was equal parts spoiling, protecting, and disciplining. They came to as many of my band concerts, sports events, and graduations as they could. And they were an incredible support system to my parents, who entrusted them with my care whenever they went somewhere without me. Their example could be seen in the way my mother was to me – encouraging, supportive, fair. She wasn’t always perfect, but then again, neither was I. I would like to imagine that she’d be the same way as Nana to Charlie.
If my mother were alive today, I would envision us living much closer to wherever she lived. My grandparents were retired by the time they were in their sixties, but I think my mother would happily still be working. Nonetheless, I think she’d want to spend a good deal of her free time with her grandson. Sure there would be a certain amount of spoiling (we’d definitely have a battle over when he gets to have his first ice cream cone), but more importantly, I think there would just be a lot of good, old-fashioned hanging out. Trips to the zoo (Turtle Back, of course, for all you North Jerseyans) and to see the trains at my favorite childhood museum. Days of floating around in inner tubes at the family lake property. Brownie baking and salad making. Afternoons on the floor with coloring books and blocks. If she were here, she’d do all those things with Charlie.
My hope is to make sure Charlie knows that he had a Nana who would have loved him like the dickens (one of her favorite phrases). I’m lucky that her ashes are interred in a beautiful spot that I visit frequently, so I can always remind Charlie of her whenever we are there together. He’ll see pictures and hear stories through me, his Grandy, and his uncle. She’ll be in his life in so many ways, even if she can’t be there physically. I will forever wonder what life would have been like with her if she had won her battle, but I get great comfort in knowing that she lives on in all of us…especially in the grandson who will never meet her, but will know her.
And now that I’ve poured my heart out, I turn to my readers to ask – how do you remember a deceased parent or relative with your little ones?









































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