“Am I like grandma?” I used to ask my mom ad nauseam. “Tell me about grandma.” My grandma T died before any of her grandchildren were born and I missed having a grandma. Without any consideration for my mom having to bring up memories about her beloved mother I used to beg her to tell me about grandma T. In my defense, I didn’t understand and couldn’t comprehend how sometimes talking about the deceased can be a painful experience. That was a lesson I could only learn by unfortunate experience. So when I was young, I pleaded for information about this absent woman whose blood ran through my veins. I guess I yearn for connections and I needed to know if grandma would have liked her granddaughter. In a way, I am still searching for connections. Continue reading
Connection: 1) the joining together of two or more people, things, or parts. 2) something that links two or more things (Encarta).
I like to feel connected. Apparently. I used to have this – for lack of a better word – game I played with my mom. I never really knew any of my grandparents so I’d have her tell me stories about them. Mainly my grandmas. I wanted to know who I looked like, who I acted like, what traits I inherited, and blah blah blah.