Learning From Our Elders

Today, my Grandma Jeanne called from California. She and I are pen pals and normally write letters. But today she called to say she got my most recent letter and that, though she knew it must have been hard, she was proud of me for walking away from something I didn't think was going to work and for trusting myself.

My grandmother has been married twice. The first time was to my grandfather, with whom she had four sons. He left when my dad was 14, leaving my grandmother with 4 sons between 7 and 14 to raise on her own. And she did, rather fantastically.

The second time was to a man I remember, but his name eludes me (that should say something). It was brief. I don't know the details since I was a child, but I know he was not a good man in the end.

For the last 20 years or so, my grandmother has been dating Roy. Roy is a good man. Grandma seems to like that he has his own house that she can send him to when he bothers her. They go camping and have joint parental custody of a German Shepherd named Sadie, and generally seem to enjoy each other a great deal. But it's clear to everyone that she has no desire to get married again.

Of her four sons, one of them is divorced. My Uncle Thomas' divorce was the example of a civil divorce and he and his wife, my Aunt Cindy, stay in close contact as they raise their two children. Thomas remarried a few years ago to a lovely woman who is now part of their - slightly odd - family.

I am the only divorced grandchild, but most of them are under 18 still, so there's time. Her parents were married forever.

Basically, my grandmother has a lot reasons not to trust marriage. But more than that, I think she is proud of me for not making a mistake she did - of knowing something was a bad idea and going through with it anyway. I think she wants me to get married (she loves great-grandbabies, having two already) and wants me to be happy and have a family, but she never wants me to suffer like she did.

My Grandma Claudia, who passed in December, was practically a saint. My sister and I said repeatedly during that time that she died without anyone being able to say a negative word about her. Grandma Jeanne is less of a saint...and I think I'm going to learn a lot more from her as an adult.