Grandparents

What makes you proud right now? What is it in your life in this very moment that burgeons forth a rush of pride, a feeling of personal satisfaction?

Here, I'll take a stab: It's your job, right? You dig your job, you feel like you got a great career on your hands. Or, no, it's something tangible -- your car, or your closet of clothes, or your vast collection of whatever oddball artifact that's keeping you perpetually single. ...Wait, I've got it, there's some talent or physical trait that you love about yourself, like your face. It's your face. Nailed it, didn't I? Knew it. (Look, I don't mean to disappoint, but that face of yours... it's only, eh, okay.)

Now tack 30-50 years on to that, throw in some grandchildren -- heck, sprinkle in a dash of great-grandchildren if you so desire -- and forget whatever the source of pride that came to mind a few moments ago because it doesn't matter anymore. Boom, you're now a grandparent.

Unfortunately my grandfathers nearly entirely survive in my mind through series of storytelling and not from a wealth of firsthand experiences. One died before my worldly arrival and the other died when I was of a young age where I could only focus on his dentures. But from what I understand, these guys were two workhorses full of virtue, savvy, respect, and raw, unadulterated manliness (I'm actually not sure if that last one applies, but it sounds good, doesn't it?).

Therefore, "grandparents" for me has almost exclusively referred to grandmothers, as they were seemingly always around, spoiling me at Christmas; keeping their candy dishes full; stuffing cash in my pockets; profiting Hallmark by sending cards on nearly every holiday, save for maybe Canada Boxing Day; letting tons of mysterious refrigerated beverages and condiments expire; and granting me all the wishes to which my parents otherwise objected.

And then there was the cooking. Man, oh man... What age is it when a woman's cooking goes from pretty good to everything she touches in the kitchen turns to succulent, salty gold? Meats, rolls, side dishes, desserts -- you name it, grandmothers universally can whip it up beyond your taste buds' wildest dreams. Maybe it comes with cooking for children and then their children and then their children's children. I don't know, and quite frankly I don't care. The fact remains that grandmothers always unfailingly churn out the tasty delights in the kitchen. You see someone's grandmother standing over a stove and you just know good things are happening. Mine were no different.

Above all, though, my grandmothers laid it all out when it came to showing loads of love and imparting equal loads of wisdom.

This was all until the passing of both within a two-and-a-half-year span. Sure, it's not ideal, but, man, they lived astoundingly full lives at 90+ years each. You can't be mad at that. If I make it to 50, I'll wonder how; as stated in a previous "take," it's just too darn easy to die.

But what grandparents leave behind is the legacy they created in the branches stemming out of the family tree. And, as I've recently learned to appreciate, these branches are the source of their pride. All that other crap from 30-50 years ago faded away, and now it's all about the direct and indirect offspring. It's gotta be a good life to sit on a patio, soak in the rays of retirement, and watch your family carry out everything you instilled.

Maybe that's not exactly how it plays out in your tree, and if not, I hate that for you. But I'm blessed that the collective trunk of my tree was strong, was sturdy, was very giving, and, as a result, bore happily intertwining branches and some really beautiful fruit.

Cheers to grandparents.