Do you ever wonder what life was like before you were born? My sister was the only child, my parents were young — my Dad actually had hair and my Mom sported a perm (you should see the photos!) Our house belonged to a famous author and frankly that’s all I know.
Family albums were a thing, photos of people who once existed but now remain in the shadows. Who were they? Did they impact the way my life went? Who is that with the moustache?! WAIT, THAT’S GRANDAD?!
Y’know that feeling, you realise you’ve approached the age where your parents got married, had their first child, got their house or did something significant? Its daunting. I’m older than my folks’ age to start a family and STILL think I’m nowhere near grown up enough to handle what they did.
Don’t you look at the in awe? Superheroes.
What about going further back? Do you ever sit and talk to your Grandparents? To you, they have always been older, greyer in appearance, wiser, with a shuffle and all-important biscuit tin; the ones you run to, spoiling you.
Three generations ago life was completely different. And I LOVE hearing stories about ‘those good ole days’ how dangerous work was, who my parents were whilst growing up, how annoying I was, and all the dogs we have been blessed with as a family. He always reminds me of how that era saw work; one single job set you up for life to support your family: stay at home wife, and kids. Career changes didn’t occur like it does now.
Its’ said Millennials will occupy 2–3 career changes in their lives and that’s the new normal; try telling my grandad that. Life back then was different, 5p for a bag of chips, crazy?! (To be fair, it wouldn’t be okay today either, would you pay 5p for chips?)
I’m fortunate enough to spend some quality time with my Grandad, as he absolutely soldiers on. It’s like nothings changed, rituals that I can’t fathom — he still gets up at the same time, silly early for work that he’s retired from. He has his ways, sometimes I think they’re crazy, somewhat delusional but he is happy. It’s so nice to see. Genuine happiness. Never wants for anything or asks for much (if anything) at all. His days are filled with what he likes; fully deserved from grafting all those years ago. We forget how easy life has gotten now — everything is instantaneous, and on my phone. He is part of that gloriously robust, hard-working era — a bloke who struggles to text, but give him tools and will make your (or break) anything you can think of. He’s a tinker-er.
Where does he get his information from, if not googling on his phone?
He’s human, I’m sure he has failures, personal battles and acts of rage like all of us. Although never to see the light of day. That super-human era. For me, grandparents were the wisest of wise — think about it our parents went to them for advice, for support, for help (they have the answers, WITHOUT google?!)
Do you remember the last gift your Grandparents got you for Christmas? I remember pyjamas — something I outgrew mindlessly. Shamefully I don’t recall many gifts as a child; what I do remember is all the holidays — How I felt in these moments; the stomach-cramping laughs dunking him in the ocean, he’s talent to ‘sniff’ out a Little Chef and how his car ALWAYS seemed to break down coming home from wales.
So many fond memories build a lump in my throat and tear to my eye in genuine delight. Lovely (but frustrating at the time) playing cards, betting away our 2ps (I swear he used to cheat) and dangling socks over him when he snored. These childhood memories are ingrained, effortlessly and joyfully fulfilling.
Together we mull over those days, weeks, years; bringing subconscious recollections back to life. The power of memories nostalgically performing in-front of our eyes. The brief moments. It’s always the little things.
My responsibility is to return the favour. We share stories we both unknowingly forgot over the years. I get to reinstall that childhood happiness and watch him crack up, nearly crying with laughter. And that’s when I can proudly think, my duty as a good granddaughter is complete.
(yes, that's a cardboard cut-out, long story)
This Christmas I notice he eyed up the new patio staring back at him (he mutilated the last one, crazy nut), a slight mention of the one tree that would finish it off perfectly.
He worked all his life, provided undeniably, and supported unconditionally, yet this particular tree was just out of range.
So, to you, it might just be a holly tree. But to him, its validation; I’m listening. He’s loved and treasured. He is deserving of whatever he wants. A valued, cherished member of the family, a right wind-up merchant who’s always, ALWAYS thought about.
Giving someone your time, undivided attention, appreciation with a small token of gratitude of all they have done for you, for your parents — all that you will never know about.
So, hunt down the perfect Holly tree, your Grandad deserves it.
Merry Christmas.
See you soon.
Originally published at https://www.wellbeingisgirlpower.com on December 16, 2020.
