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My poor grandfather...
Sep. 11th, 2009 02:55 pmSo...
Way back when Grandda and Gran got engaged, and announced it to their families (none of whom were surprised, very, given the have-his-mother-vet-her/ask-her-father-for-permission process and the fact that Grandda was right smitten, but I suppose there was a chance my shrewd Gran might've looked at the smitten man through a loup and decided he was a bad risk...), the difference in their upbringing was brought into sharp focus.
Grandda's brother Howard swept Gran up in a big bear hug and kissed her cheek for glee.
Gran was mortified. To be grabbed and hugged and kissed--in public!--by someone not her betrothed? Unacceptable.
Grandda was dumbfounded by this, as was Howard. She was family now, and he was happy for his little brother's good fortune, and when family make you happy, you squeeze them. Hell, when family stand within snuggling range, you squeeze them if they look like they could use a squeeze. That's just how they were. What was wrong?
Where Gran came from, it just wasn't done, that's what.
Well alright, that's enough. Sorry about that. Welcome to the family.
Thank you kindly.
And that was that.
Every time Uncle Howard came to one of the family reunions, you could see the light dancing in his eyes as he greeted my grandmother. A hand to shake, he cups it in both his, smiles warmly at her. Then squeezes his brother as tight as he's able. Then sits or stands somewhere out of the way to wait for his brother's daughters and their daughters to accost him for hugs.
You could tell who took after Gran and who didn't. One or two polite chin-to-shoulder-patpatpat hugs. One or two bonecrushers. I got the cheek kisses.
~*~
When his wife died, I remember how lost he looked standing next to his son and shaking the parade of hands that passed him, nodding at the sympathetic words.
When I got to him, I hugged him. Auntie may've been a harridan, but she was his harridan, his anchor, and now she was gone. Hugs were the next best thing. And he smiled and held on to me for a bit while he met the next couple of sympathetic voices.
No surprise when a few months later he was introducing us to his new girlfriend. Affection wants a home and will find one. It's how we're built. Go with God.
~*~
Howard fell asleep yesterday and just didn't wake up.
Funeral's Sunday.
Got to say, of all the possible ways to go, that's a good one. And now his soul's off doing whatever souls do when they don't have a skin to worry about. Maybe swimming in a great sea of other souls, and wouldn't Howard love that?
But still.
There's a rack full of cousins who just lost their grandda.
And all I can think is a) who besides me will curse at the family reunions now? and 2) we've got to get Grandda to Florida so he can squeeze his last sister. She's feisty, but she's also almost 90.
Oh gods...
Way back when Grandda and Gran got engaged, and announced it to their families (none of whom were surprised, very, given the have-his-mother-vet-her/ask-her-father-for-permission process and the fact that Grandda was right smitten, but I suppose there was a chance my shrewd Gran might've looked at the smitten man through a loup and decided he was a bad risk...), the difference in their upbringing was brought into sharp focus.
Grandda's brother Howard swept Gran up in a big bear hug and kissed her cheek for glee.
Gran was mortified. To be grabbed and hugged and kissed--in public!--by someone not her betrothed? Unacceptable.
Grandda was dumbfounded by this, as was Howard. She was family now, and he was happy for his little brother's good fortune, and when family make you happy, you squeeze them. Hell, when family stand within snuggling range, you squeeze them if they look like they could use a squeeze. That's just how they were. What was wrong?
Where Gran came from, it just wasn't done, that's what.
Well alright, that's enough. Sorry about that. Welcome to the family.
Thank you kindly.
And that was that.
Every time Uncle Howard came to one of the family reunions, you could see the light dancing in his eyes as he greeted my grandmother. A hand to shake, he cups it in both his, smiles warmly at her. Then squeezes his brother as tight as he's able. Then sits or stands somewhere out of the way to wait for his brother's daughters and their daughters to accost him for hugs.
You could tell who took after Gran and who didn't. One or two polite chin-to-shoulder-patpatpat hugs. One or two bonecrushers. I got the cheek kisses.
~*~
When his wife died, I remember how lost he looked standing next to his son and shaking the parade of hands that passed him, nodding at the sympathetic words.
When I got to him, I hugged him. Auntie may've been a harridan, but she was his harridan, his anchor, and now she was gone. Hugs were the next best thing. And he smiled and held on to me for a bit while he met the next couple of sympathetic voices.
No surprise when a few months later he was introducing us to his new girlfriend. Affection wants a home and will find one. It's how we're built. Go with God.
~*~
Howard fell asleep yesterday and just didn't wake up.
Funeral's Sunday.
Got to say, of all the possible ways to go, that's a good one. And now his soul's off doing whatever souls do when they don't have a skin to worry about. Maybe swimming in a great sea of other souls, and wouldn't Howard love that?
But still.
There's a rack full of cousins who just lost their grandda.
And all I can think is a) who besides me will curse at the family reunions now? and 2) we've got to get Grandda to Florida so he can squeeze his last sister. She's feisty, but she's also almost 90.
Oh gods...
