Thinking of Grampy

"There's an old proverb that says you can't choose your family. You take what the fates hand you. And, like them or not, love them or not, understand them or not, you cope. Then there's the school of thought that says the family you're born into is simply a starting point. They feed you, and clothe you, and take care of you until you're ready to go into the world and find your tribe." — Meredith Grey, "Grey's Anatomy"

After I dropped X-man off at school today (He walked in, washed his hands AND picked out a puzzle by himself without imploding for the first time with me dropping him off at the new room, although he did point to the Panda room when I asked him which was his classroom.), I had to return some movies that MacTroll had rented from That's Rentertainment.

If you're not one of those people who is afraid to go on campus, you should really check this locally owned and operated store out. We love them not only for the international collection but because they have a renter's block. Give them $100 and you get 100 DVDs for $1 for THREE nights. MacTroll and I are a little slow. It takes us around 2 years to use all 100 movies.

Anyway on my way over there I started thinking about my grandfather. In the last few days, X-man has become pretty friendly with my old Care Bear (from the original Care Bear days). He holds Grumpy Bear closely and finds the fact that he has a heart on his butt and on his nose pretty entertaining. MacTroll got really confused the first time I asked where Grumpy's heart was and X-man immediately flipped the bear over to show us his buttocks. 

That bear was a gift from my grandfather to me almost 25 years ago (don't think about the dustmites). My paternal grandfather was my favorite person in the world as a little girl. I'd get excited when we were going to see him. I'd be sad when we left. I remember the day he told me they were moving to Florida. I was lying in a sunbeam with him on the floor of the living room. It was a lazy day, and suddenly my hangin' around with Grampy became a life altering shift. He was moving away. And even his promises that the new house would have a pool wasn't good enough. I didn't want to see him once a year and swim in his pool. I wanted to see him all the time and sleep on the carpet in the living room, get pushed around in the wheelbarrow and watch him drag his toast into his egg yoke in the morning. 

I felt a certain kinship with my grandfather that I didn't feel with anyone else. He was my favorite, and in the way he always showed me infinite patience, I kind of always wondered if I was his favorite too. Of course, he'd never tell me that -- there were six other grandchildren in his life. But I watched how he had to keep on my three boy cousins. How he'd shout or grab their hands or spank them when they'd try to run across the street without looking. I could sit next to him in his garage or in the garden and just watch him work. My grandfather gardened a lot. He was fabulous at it. And never mind his "Master Gardener" certificate -- my people are landscapers. I guarantee I have no green thumb, but I don't mind the work and I like doing it with my son the way my grandfather liked doing it with me. We liked being together. It was a natural. 

In 1992, two weeks after I met MacTroll. My grandfather, grandmother and aunt Rose were killed in a car accident while driving from Florida to New York to visit relatives. Poor Barbara had to break the news to me. They were 70 and 69. There was a double Catholic funeral where my parents grew up in Hinsdale. There was grief.

But mostly there was me sitting on the porch outside feeling separate from everything that was going on inside. I didn't think that was where my grandfather would have wanted all of us to be. I didn't think that was how he'd like to be remembered. 

I like to keep trying to grow roses like he did. In this house I have a Sterling Silver and two Kennedy rose bushes. They've been blooming the last couple of weeks. And each time I see them, Daniel Thomas Williams, Sr. (aka Grampy), the first son born in America to my immigrant great grandparents, is all I can think of. 

And I guess that's what the afterlife is for me. The ones who knew you keep you in their hearts and love you and remember you as they focus on trying to create quality relationships with those that touch their lives regardless if they're related by blood or marriage or just by proximity. For blood and legal bindings are nothing in comparison to love. 

So, I'm raising my WW 32 oz water pitcher to my tribe. Seriously, you do good work. I hope I'm there as much for you as you are for me. (And KTDID, I still think you should come home for a visit this summer. Call me. We have points!)