Grandparents

Since there are many different reasons for estrangement, I feel conflicted about the issue of grandparents. Depending upon our situation - whether it's a grandchild missing a grandparent, a parent withholding their children, or a grandparent longing for a grandchild - the broken relationship pose's heartbreak.

In my own situation, my mother never showed any interest in my children; before, or after our estrangement. Although, even if she had, I wouldn't have felt comfortable leaving them alone with her. When my daughters were little, this caused me a great deal of anguish. Since my father died when I was young, I mourned that my children would never know what it is like to have a loving grandparent.

I had such fond memories of my own grandmother that I was sad that my children would miss experiencing this important human relationship. However, my children did spend time with my grandmother. So much so that they thought she was their grandmother. This made it all the more difficult when my grandmother, whom we loved dearly, cut us out of her life for good. I couldn't understand how a loving grandmother could reject her grandchild and great-grandchildren.

In other words, I come from the perspective of longing for the grandparent relationship for myself and for my daughters, while my mother and grandmother did not want a relationship with their grandchildren.

I also understand when, in cases of abuse, a parent does not allow their children to see their grandparents. Many adult children are clear - certainly those who have experienced sexual abuse - that they don't want their own children left unattended with their parents. Yet, they often find themselves legally or emotionally embattled with their parents over visitation with their children.

Other families walk the fine line between wanting their children to receive the good their families have to offer, while guarding against harmful circumstances. Unfortunately, many of these families often find their children "in the middle." receiving confusing messages from both sides as to who was right, who was wrong and who is to blame for the estrangement.

And then there are grandparents who have been cut out of their children's and grandchildren's lives and they don't know why. They mourn for their children, the grandchildren they love, and the grandchildren they will never meet; precious time, never to be replaced. My heart breaks for these individuals as well. Although I haven't had this experience, I feel a shared empathy through the universal loss that comes with estrangement.

I've heard of many different circumstances causing a family cut off: intolerance, sexuality, choice of mate, In-laws, family dysfunction, abuse, etc. Usually, the cause of the rift has been building for years without adequate communication. Then, a single event "appears" to have caused the rift.

No matter which way you cut it - estrangements are painful stuff!

Grandparents

During my growing up years, Grandma had a positive impact on my life. She gave me what all children need – she gave of herself. Quite simply, she spent time with me. Grandma stated her affection with walks on the beach and her almost eccentric, yet loveable curiosity with nature. She spent time with my brothers and me, playing cards, cooking us elaborate meals and spoiling us with treats. Grandma shared her joy of crafts and cared for us when we were ill. I treasure fond memories of my grandmother.

Yet, she refused to believe that we were abused. When the family fell apart, she became enraged with me and cut me out of her life for good. I was stunned! How could a loving grandmother reject her grandchild?

The estrangement from my grandmother left me in an awkward place with my grandfather. Grandpa suffered from dementia and Grandma was his caretaker. The day Grandma cut me out of her life, Grandpa pleaded with her to stop what she was doing.

Six years into the estrangement from my Grandmother, my Mother, and my three siblings, my Grandma died. My love and longing for her were central to me long before she died. Yet I didn’t go to the funeral. I mourned her loss and a segment of my history alone. The soul-crushing isolation caused by not attending her service left me devastated; however, I simply did not feel safe enough to be there.

When Grandma died, Grandpa was moved into a care facility. This move afforded me the opportunity to see Grandpa again each Sunday:

Grandpa was eighty-eight years old when Grandma died. The simultaneous loss of his wife and his home must have been extremely difficult for my grandfather. However, Grandpa handled his transition with enviable grace. He tempered heartfelt expressions of love and loss with positive hope for his future. I am still in awe of his constant optimistic approach to each situation without displaying a hint of displeasure.

Although I cherish many wonderful childhood memories of my grandfather – reflections of teaching me cribbage, domino's, or just talking as we walked on the beach – my most heartfelt memories are those of teaching me life’s gentle lessons.

When I was a child, Grandma, Grandpa, and his then seventy-five year old sister took my brothers and me to the Suspension Bridge in Canada. Aunt Jessie was a little unsteady as we approached the lengthy span. Grandpa took her purse in one hand and then gently slipped his other arm through hers. He very patiently and lovingly escorted his older sister across the long wobbly bridge. In the decades to come, I watched Grandpa in many such circumstances – always the gentleman, always compassionate. However, this particular memory stands out for me, because, as I waited in the distance and watched them make this long journey together, I made my first conscience realization of what sort of man my grandfather really was.

Even at ninety and suffering from severe dementia, Grandpa never lost his sense of humor. Once before Grandpa and I left a gathering at my aunt’s house, she took Grandpa by the hand to help him use the facilities. When a visiting child asked where my aunt was taking him, the room fell in awkward silence. Grandpa saved the moment with his mischievous reply, “Well, she’s taking me out back for a whoopin of course!”

I treasure the time I had with Grandpa, even as I struggled with the discomfort of watching as his life slowly slipped away. Although he reached the point that he could no longer carry on a conversation, or remember anything past the present, I was blessed with the opportunity to return the love he shared throughout a lifetime. We went on long drives, simple outings, played checkers, or to a restaurant to eat. Most often, we stayed in his room and watched TV. Even though he didn’t remember who I was – he knew he was loved. Grandpa enriched my life with a wink and a smile, with a big gripping hug, and the words in earnest, “I love you!” He provided the little connections that make life meaningful.

For more than a half-century, Grandpa occupied “his chair” – to read, to watch TV, and to watch over his family. Each week, I sat on the floor at Grandpas feet to cut and arrange new flowers for his room. I looked up at my Grandfather, and watched him – watch over me – just as he had since I was little a little girl, and I was grateful for each day I was still his granddaughter.