theinbetweenismine

just a girl living the expat life

Archives for March 2010

Things you wouldn’t know…

filed under: about me, Expat stories, Things you wouldn't know

{via}

… if it wasn’t for me! YOU’RE WELCOME!

As an expat, living in a different country away from home, you encounter a whole lot of things that are just different from what you’re used to. Some things are significant, others barely noticeable.
Still, in many regards you really don’t expect for things to be different and there are a whole lot of things that we completely subconsciously take for granted to be the way that we know them to be, not wasting a second thought on the slightest possibility that things might be different some place else.

This might – or might not – become a new weekly feature post here on this blog (I haven’t decided yet if I am really that dedicated and/or if I might run out of things to write about sooner than you can say “I told you so”), but it might be entertaining and you actually might learn something, too.
Because unless you have traveled to Europe (which some of you have and I’d be especially interested in your opinion on the matter!), you wouldn’t really know about all the little things that I’ve been encountering on a daily basis since I set foot on American soil that are just not the way I used to know them (although I am pretty used to them by now!).

Today I’ll entertain you with something that pretty much bothers me on a regular basis. Maybe you can already take a guess on what I might be talking about from the images at the top of this post.

Indeed. Restrooms.

There are two distinct peculiarities that instantly struck me when I first used a public restroom (with multiple stalls) in the US.

a) Why is there always a (huge) gap between the door and the door frame? This makes it highly awkward and almost impossible to get some temporary privacy while you’re doing your business. You know, I honestly believed that people could pretty much see everything that I was doing through those gaps (and HELLO?, maybe I am not imagining this, maybe they really can, which means I can, too. And that is TMI!)

b) Why aren’t there any “vacant” or “occupied” signs (they don’t have to be as pretty and colorful as on the images above, mind you.) on the outside of the bathroom stalls? Is that some sort of conspiratorial exercise setup, to have to bend down to see if somebody is using the stall (or, alternatively, trying to peep through the gaps around the door)?

In Germany, bathroom stalls in public restrooms might not always have walls and doors that go completely down to line up with the floor, though in many places that is pretty much the case (pay attention next time you use a restroom at a European airport!), but there are definitely no gaps between the doors and the door frames and it is very, very likely that you’ll see a vacant/occupied sign integrated with the door lock.

Since using a public bathroom is not the most pleasant thing that comes to mind, wouldn’t it be nice to have at least the most privacy humanly possible in this situation? Raise your hand Leave a comment if you agree.

Before I leave you to your own thoughts regarding this matter, I thought it would be nice to describe my approach to the dilemma and then you share your tactics in the restroom, mmkay?

So, whenever I need to use the restroom at work (oh, which is only about 8x per day, because of all the coffee/tea/water that I (try to) drink), I usually enter the restroom listening for any noise coming from the restroom stalls.
If there is somebody there, I usually fall into a brisk walk and make for the second stall, lightly tapping my finger on stall No. 1 in passing to see if the door gives way. (Thank God, the doors open inwardly; contrary to the restroom doors in Europe).
If it does, I stop abruptly mid-movement and slide into stall No.1. Otherwise I repeat the same on door No.2. I’d imagine for somebody watching, it would look kind of awkward, but this is better than banging on the door and better than peeping through the gaps or bending down to count feet.

What’s your approach?
Do you peep through the cracks? Do you bend down?
Do share!

Honest Scrap Award

filed under: about me, lists!

honestscrapaward

Last week, the lovely Holly from Scattered Words awarded my blog with the “The Honest Scrap Award” . We’ve only “known” each other through our blogs for a short while, but I really appreciate that she passed this on to me.

The rules of acceptance?

I’m supposed to list 10 things that you may find interesting about me and then nominate 7 other bloggers to do the same. Don’t we all love to learn some odd and random things about each other?

Thought so.

Here we go…

  1. I am an eternal optimist. I prefer to see the good things in people rather than their weaknesses and I’ll always try to give everybody the benefit of the doubt (and  I usually only change my mind if somebody continuously tries really hard to prove to me that (s)he’s not worth my trust and efforts). I have always been this way and sometimes I am not sure if this is a good thing. Overall though, I’d much rather be open and kind to people, then push them away from me, so I continue to be the way that I’ve always been.

  2. I’ve only dated two men in my life (and married one of them). I think that puts me in a very rare category these days, yes?

  3. I am a very organized person. If I am looking for something, I usually have a 98% chance of finding what I am looking for in less than 5 minutes. That does not mean that my home is free of clutter. Considering the size of our apartment, clutter is pretty much unavoidable, but you know the saying “Order is for idiots, genius can handle chaos”. I also love making lists. And the crossing-stuff-off of lists. It gives me some kind of accomplishment. I also tend to multitask. It just comes naturally.

  4. I have freckles. They usually only come out during the summer. I kind of like them. I also have moles beauty spots on my face (and the rest of my body). They don’t fade in the winter. I am stuck with those all year.

  5. I am an over-thinker. If you can bet on one thing, then it’s the fact that I completely over-think everything. Small things, big things, you name it. I have a tendency to think so long and hard about things that I completely question myself after a while. Sometimes I wish my brain would just STFU.

  6. I couldn’t eat liver if my life depended on it (but I do like love liverwurst!). Mmh, that must strike you as odd. I can’t quite explain it myself, but that’s the way it is.

  7. My favorite color (right now) is teal. I am not a big fan of the primary colors, but every mix of them (mostly with white, which would make them pastel colors) is super-pretty in my opinion.

  8. I hate vacuuming with a passion. If I could completely eliminate one household chore, it would be that. I don’t even know exactly why I hate it so much, but I’d rater mop the floors than use a vacuum cleaner.

  9. I am somewhat obsessed with typing. I mean, the actual act of typing. I learned touch typing in college (and I am so glad I put in the effort!) and I am kind of obsessed with it. I don’t know, it makes me feel good. It’s hard to explain, really.

  10. I am a very patient person. I think that is part of the reason why I would have become a pretty good teacher (if I had chosen to do so). I did a lot of tutoring when I was in College and one thing that all students agreed on was the fact that I had an unlimited amount of patience for each and every one of them. I also was a skiing instructor on school skiing trips for a while and I practically begged to get the group with the “least” talented kids, because I knew I would take pride in being patient and slowly teaching them the basics.

And now, it’s your turn… yes, YOURS.

I don’t want to nominate anybody, because I don’t want you to feel obligated to play, but everyone is encouraged to play along. I am sure you have ten little secrets about yourself that you’re dying to share with us!

On being a twin

filed under: about me, family

Most people don’t know what it is like to share a birthday with a sibling.

Most people probably don’t think it’s very desirable to share a birthday with someone in the family (as it might seem that you’d only get ‘half’ the attention).

As for a (fraternal) twin like me, it feels the opposite way. If you can’t share your birthday with your sibling, it doesn’t feel right, it doesn’t feel complete.

Usually I have entertained you with a birthday post in the last couple of years, sharing pictures of the home-made cupcakes (that I baked for myself) and my “birthday table” with all the cards and presents I received from my family and friends.

This year, my birthday – almost three weeks ago – came and went without being mentioned on this blog. This year, I was too busy finally celebrating my birthday with my sister again. To be able to hug my sister on our special day was definitely the best birthday present ever!

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You know what they say, twins share a special bond. I don’t know if you believe in that or not, but I definitely do. Even though we are “only” fraternal twins and don’t share an identical genetic code, I am definitely convinced that we  do share a unique connection nonetheless.

My sister and I have been close for as long as I can remember (and from what I hear from my parents waaaay before then). I believe that the bond that my sister and I have has been forged by sharing  so many experiences together at the same point of our emotional and physical development.

I mean, think about it, our relationship started in our mother’s womb. We’ve therefore known each other as long as humanly possible. I think that is a fascinating thought. Even though we, of course, didn’t consciously know that the other one was there, it was something that we probably always subconsciously relied on.

After we were born we naturally – and from a practical point of view – did everything together; from eating and sleeping to bathing and playing. Although obviously our parents had no other choice in order to save time (and their sanity), it’s not hard to understand that constantly being around each other formed a strong bond.

I think one thing that favorably distinguishes fraternal twins from identical twins is the fact that fraternal twins benefit from their close relationship and upbringing, but still have the advantage of being born with individual personalities and appearances.
My parents definitely did something right by not dressing us alike after a certain age
(I guess, when we were babies it didn’t really matter that much and hey, dressing twins the same way is so cute, is it not?) and letting us develop our own personalities. Even though we went through all stages of life together, our parents treated us more like normal siblings than one entity.

I’ve heard many, many times that twins (or multiples) are put in separate classes in school to provide them with an opportunity to develop their own identities. While I can see how in some cases that might be a good idea, I am really glad my parents decided against it and let us be in the same class.

I did a little research about the bond of twins and found a ton of information and read somewhere (on Talk About Twins by Christina Tinglof) that another reason why twins may develop such a strong bond is that they can become each other’s transitional objects—you know, that teddy bear or security blanket that helps to ease the pain when Mommy’s not around.

This is so true for us. And even if I feel it has been so much more true for me (because I relied heavily on my sister when we were little), I know it was also true for my sister. We both always had the comfort of knowing that the other one was going to be there right alongside with you.

But isn’t that a bad thing, you might ask. Something that holds you back, because you’re not pushed to overcome a challenge on your own? Don’t you miss out on opportunities that help you grow?

Believe me when I say that you’ll get plenty of opportunities to grow when you get older and naturally go your separate ways a bit. Something that I wouldn’t want to miss though is this early connection between my sister and I that has  translated into an incredibly strong adult bond.

We haven’t always been “best friends” (in the common sense of the word), although I consider her my best friend now. We had our own circle of friends as teenagers and we also had different interests and hobbies.  But nobody will ever know me as good – and  for as long – as my twin, which basically gives our union an advantage over any relationship that we have formed later in life. I know that I can call her any time of the day (and vice versa) and I can literally share everything with her.
As much as I treasure my friendships, and I am blessed with a couple of awesome strong and loyal friendships, my sister is – and will always be – the first person that I turn to.

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Do you have a person like that in your life?

A walk down memory lane

filed under: about me, family, reminiscence

{image via weheartit}

The week after my Granddad’s funeral, my sister and I – along with my Dad and uncle – went to my Granddad’s house. My Dad had to sort out some papers (insurances, mail service, bank accounts, etc.) and my sister and I wanted to rummage around and look for some hidden treasures from our childhood.

We spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house when we were little and we were sure that we would find some cool stuff.

And we did! Along with many, many memories.

As I was wondering through my Granddad’s house that day, which was most likely the very last time that I’ll ever set foot into this house, I had a lump in my throat. It felt weird being there without him being there.
Somehow, I expected to hear the TV blasting from his living room or to hear him clatter around in the kitchen, but the house was silent.
I  took a picture of each room (does that make me weird?), so I’d remember what the house looked like from the inside. Although; this is kind of silly, since the memories of this house have been imprinted in my memory for so long that I’ll never forget what it looked like. Not in a million years.

It’s hard to describe, but do you know what I mean when I say that I used to have a different “spatial perception” when I was little? Even though the rooms look exactly the same, they still look “different” from how I remember them from my childhood. This once again proves to me that the human language is so limited, that there are no words to describe certain sensations and feelings. But maybe, just maybe, you know what I am talking about.

My sister and I went up to the attic, a place where we hadn’t been for years. The one little room up there wasn’t used for anything other than storage, so there was no need for anybody ever to go up there. We found some old toys and a board game (that is not available any longer, but which we both LOVED and apparently took really good care of as kids, because it was in like-new condition!). We also for the first time in years went back into my grandparents’ old bedroom. A bedroom where we had slept many, many times, before and after my Grandma died. It all looked the same, the style was never updated and probably dated back  to the 60’s.
The were the same random things standing around on my Grandma’s old dresser. Things we hadn’t thought of in ages, but things that both my sister and I distinctly remembered. A little wooden statue of the Virgin Mary, a white coral box, a brush.

It was strange to see my Granddad’s every day things lying around, as if he would come back to use them. A heating pad on his bedside table (he used that for back pain), his tooth brush in a cup above the bathroom sink. I even expected to see his wooden leg lean at the wall next to the window, as I looked around.  It had always been there and my Granddad never kept this a secret from us when we were little.
I guess we didn’t think anything of his amputated limb (a “souvenir” from WWII) and he made us feel as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Oddly, the wooden leg wasn’t there. Somebody must have put it away. I don’t know if they took it to the hospital, when he was admitted. Would somebody think of bringing a wooden leg along? Anyway.

As we were standing there in my grandparents’ bedroom, my sister and I both remembered the same scenario. We were lying in bed, my Granddad in the middle, my sister and I tugged underneath the blanket right and left from him. We must have been 6 or 7. We urged my Granddad to tell us the story of Mowgli (the Jungle Book), a story that my Grandma used to tell us for bedtime.
My Granddad was struggling to come up with the story (as he had never told it before and “who the heck is Mowgli?”). He knew we were expecting to hear the same story my Grandma had told and for sure, my sister and I were merciless critics. We kept correcting him over and over on how “this was this way” and “no, that was that way”.
I smiled to myself. Those were wonderful memories.

Downstairs, we found a bunch of photos and a really cool scrapbook album that my Grandma had put together about her and my Granddad’s courtship. It literally made my heart melt to see all the effort and love that she had put into this! I wish I could have gotten to know my Grandma so much better. She actually wrote in rhyme-form throughout the whole album and she embellished every page with drawings and attached little keepsakes like postcards, buttons, etc.
(I see where I got my craftiness!! :))

We also took something from the house that is very precious to me and my sister: the last picture of my Grandma and Granddad together, before my Grandma died. This must have been in the early 80’s. This picture was sitting on my Granddad’s living room shelf (and this here is obviously a digital copy of it – there was no digital camera in the 80’s! Duh!) and I made copies for my Dad, my uncle, my sister and myself.

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As far as I know, not many photos of my sister and I with my Grandma exist from when we were little. It was possibly due to the fact that she was battling breast cancer during all the years after we were born and there were periods of time when she didn’t feel well at all. Of course, my sister and I were too young to have noticed that. But this also left us with very little photographic evidence of the short time that we had with her. I think I physically have one other photo of her alone and then I recall one more photo where she’s holding my sister and I, but I have no idea where this photo is right now. Therefore, this photo of my Grandma and Granddad at one of the happier occasions during the final months (?) of her life is so very precious to me.
(The photo must have been taken at one of the “Schützenverein” (marksmen club)-events, because my Granddad is wearing his uniform. I also distinctly recall the necklace that my Grandma is wearing. I am not sure if that is still at my Granddad’s house somewhere, but my sister and I both said that we would love to have it. Isn’t it funny what random things you can recall from your early childhood?)

When my Granddad died, I realized that I’ve had so many questions for him that now will never be answered. We found a bunch of old photographs, which we gave to my great-aunt (my Grandma’s sister) to have her identify all the people in the pictures. Nobody will be able to tell who those people in the pictures are anymore, if she doesn’t shed some light on this. We have to take advantage of that as long as we are so lucky to have her around.

On one of the living room walls, I spotted a family picture, my Grandma and Granddad obviously much younger, with my Dad (left) and uncle (right). I love this photo for so many reasons – most of all because all four of them were still together. (On a side note, don’t you think I look a lot like my Dad when he was little?)

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I think this was taken in the mid-50’s. My Granddad was in his 30’s back then and already going bald. Poor guy!

My Dad is pretty much bald now as well (thank God I am not a guy or I would go bald, too!) and I tell you a little secret. When I was little, my Granddad used to make fun of the fact that my Dad would go completely bald before long and I was so upset about this that I prayed every night that God wouldn’t take my Dad’s hair away. (Cute, eh?)
Not that I love him any less without the hair, but as a child I really couldn’t stand the thought of it.

Baldness was for Granddads!

Well, I guess, now it doesn’t matter anymore, because my Dad is a Granddad now! :)

All in all, it was a day of mixed feelings. Happy thoughts along with sadness that all things must pass, nostalgia paired with incredible gratefulness for the wonderful memories that will forever be.
As I am finishing this, a single tear is running down my cheek – but it’s a tear of sadness and joy alike.

Retail therapy

filed under: about me, friends, good things, my so-called life, photography, shopping

I have so much to write about, so many stories and feelings I want to share from my short, but oh-so-precious and unexpected visit with my family.
The right words just still haven’t come to me yet.
While you’re waiting for me to come around with something more meaningful, I’ll entertain you with my spur-of-the-moment shoe purchase from yesterday.

I was out for a little Sunday afternoon shopping trip. You know the scenario.
You’re feeling kind of unnerved and edgy, but it’s nothing that a little retail therapy couldn’t cure. Quite frankly, for me it works like a charm every time.

Picture it.

I was walking through Nordstrom Rack with my cell phone pressed to my ear, talking rapidly in German with Kim and trying to make a decision about the armful of shoes that I had clamped under my arm. It surely must have been quite entertaining to watch. I think the guy at the shoe check-out was quite amused as well, what with the hand-gesturing and head-pointing.

Can’t you see I am too busy talking on the phone to follow proper shopping rules?
[Actually, I usually never ever do that – talk on the phone  at a check-out line. How rude. Phew!]

But alas, when my conversation came to an end, I also had made my decision about the shoes. Yep. I am a multi-tasker and I can do it anywhere!

These were the winners.

Report Halle tan

Cute, yes?

And here I was, thinking I didn’t like the latest style of flats. (In fact, I am somewhat picky when it comes to shoe styles.)
Obviously, you just have to present the right kind to me. The cute kind. At 43% off.
And just like that I am a happy girl again :)

My sister would say: Those shoes are so Y.O.U.
Ahem, if you know me, you’d agree: quite true, so me!

Putting a smile on your face for the weekend

filed under: about me, family, good times, love

I’m still trying to catch up on my Google Reader and I am working on some more blog posts.
In the meantime, enjoy this little video of my niece and me. She completely cracks me up. We were dancing to a cell phone ringtone… and she couldn’t get enough of it.
I just love her.


Please disregard my bedhead hair (and no make up) and focus on Greta’s two little  first-time pigtails :)

Precious time

filed under: family, Germany, good times, home

{image via weheartit}

My Google Reader says: 654 unread items. I have no idea when to catch up.
I haven’t spent as little time online as I did in the last 1,5 weeks in forever. I felt somewhat liberated and completely out-of-touch at the same time.
But I wanted to let you know that I am back and that I have a gazillion of good moments to share about my trip to Germany.

Most of my trip seems pretty surreal in retrospect. Like, was I really there?
I guess, it was just the fact that I wasn’t supposed to be in Germany, when I was.
I hadn’t planned to go back before May and the unexpected news of my Granddad’s passing and the last-minute travel arrangements to be there for his funeral simply left my brain lagging behind.
This unexpected time with my family couldn’t have come at a better time, though, and it was most precious. It also reminded me that family is so very important and that you should never delay telling your loved ones how much they mean to you.

Once the funeral was over and the first overwhelming wave of grief subsided, I was able to really enjoy my time back home. I didn’t make any time for friends (besides my best friend in town) while I was there and I apologize for that, but it was important for me to solely focus on my family. On my Dad, who had just lost his Dad. On my Mom, who knows all too well (and for much too long) what it feels like to have lost both her parents. My sister, who was well advanced in her pregnancy at the time and torn between grief and anticipation of the new baby. My little niece Greta, who I hadn’t seen for 6 months and who had already learned so much since then. And my great-aunt, who solely and solidly as a rock is holding the fort as the older generation of our family. I am praying every night that she’ll still be around for a very long time.

A few things that kind of struck me through the whole experience last week were:

  • Even though my Granddad passed away, life goes on. It has never been so evidently clear to me than right now. For some odd reason, I thought that when the first person of our immediate family dies, the world would stop spinning for a while. I’ve lost other relatives before, but none of them were as close to me as my Granddad (or I was too little to understand).
    I keep thinking of my Granddad, sitting in his arm chair in his TV room. It still feels like he’s there (even though I know he’s not and I have been to his house last week, which was very strange and will provide matter for a completely different blog post.) It’s so, so hard to grasp that someone that I’ve known my whole life is not there anymore.
    And still, we go to bed every night and get up  the next day. That’s what my Granddad had planned to do. He went to bed that one night, but he just didn’t get up anymore. It almost doesn’t seem right, if you know what I mean.
  • Grief comes in waves. There were days when I was completely ok, almost cheerful and I kept thinking “San, what’s wrong with you. Your Granddad just died. You don’t have the right to be cheerful”. But I was. I was thankful to be able to be with my family, I was thankful that my Granddad died an easy and painless death. I was thankful for all the happy memories and even though I miss him terribly, I am not really sad anymore. Not sad sad.
    And then, at other times, a memory will hit you out of left field and it will knock the wind right out of you.
  • The older one gets, the more one will be confronted with illness and death.
    That simply frightens me.
  • The older one gets, the more one realizes how important family is in one’s life.
    I don’t mean to sound sappy, but this is just some revelation I had over the last few years. When I moved to the US, I clearly had no idea what this would mean for the long haul.
    Even though I – technically – knew what it meant, namely not being able to see my family on a regular basis, being absent for major events in my family’s life, etc., and even though I had no doubt that the close family bond that already existed could never be destroyed, I didn’t realize until much later that living so far away from your loved ones can really suck. JUST PLAIN SUCK.

That does by no means imply that I am unhappy where I am at or that I regret my decision to live here. I love California, I love my job, I love my life here. But in times likes this, it becomes evidently clear that we can only be in one place at a time and that we ultimately have to make a decision.

I am back… and I am in love… II

filed under: excitement, family, yes!

Heyho everybody.
Somebody – that’d be me! – is re-appearing in the blogosphere after a much-too-short, but wonderful time with my family in Germany. I arrived safely back home Saturday night and I’ll give you a recap of my trip a little later this week, but today I need to share the wonderful news.

Yesterday, my sister gave birth to a beautiful little baby boy and I became an aunt.

Again!

Greta’s little brother Tom was born healthy and happy on March 14, 2010
at 10.41 a.m. (MET).
He was 53 cm (20.9 inches) long and weighed 3550g (7.83 pounds).

Tom - 14.3.2010 - 53cm - 3550g

He looks a whole lot like his sister and I am kind of bummed that I can’t be there to cuddle with this cutie pie.

I guess, my visit turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Even though I only ended up going  home in March because of my Granddad’s death, I was able to finally celebrate my birthday with my sister again and we also welcomed a new member to our family. I should be thankful for this.

Actually, if you put two and two together, you realize: I left a little less than 24 hours before my nephew was born. Bad timing, I know. I was hoping that he would decide to come into the world while I was  still there, but I guess he wasn’t quite ready to come out on his own. I am not too terribly sad though since I’ll be going back to see him very, very soon (in May).

I am really, really in love with my niece (and god-child) Greta and I am a teeny tiny bit afraid that I’ll always love her a little more than my nephew, just because she was there first… but then I realize: love doesn’t have to be split up, it actually multiplies and I know that I’ll have just as much love for Tom as I have for Greta right now! :)
I can’t wait to meet him in person!

Family

filed under: my so-called life

Just before I’ll get on the plane today, Carolina will fill in for me one more time. Thank you, Caro!

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Hello San’s lovely readers! San was gracious enough to let me guest post for her while she is away spending this valuable time with her family in Germany.

She asked if I could write something centered around family. I have to admit, I struggled with this at first. I even initially wrote a different post entirely because I wasn’t sure how to adequately express this beautiful story I have to share…

My father emigrated to the United States from El Salvador back in the 70’s. He ended up in Utah where he was to attend college. His English was still lacking and it was recommended he re-do the 12th grade. Somehow (by divine intervention, I think) during that senior year, he ended up living in the home of Grant and Val Clement.

These two sweet souls took in my father and adopted him, not only into their family, but lovingly into their hearts. They became “mom” and “dad” to him and he became no less than a son to them. From the moment we were born (me and my 2 brothers), they were our grandparents. I’ve only ever known Grant and Val as Grandpa and Grandma and they loved us with their whole hearts like real grandparents do!

Words aren’t enough to explain how it felt to walk into my granparents’ home and see our family pictures lovingly displayed, to eat my grandmother’s cooking and hear her amazing stories, to receive birthday cards EVERY SINGLE year without fail, and to be so very loved by two people who didn’t have to love us.

I was living in Northern California in August of 2008. That same month, I attended my brother’s wedding in Utah. My grandparents who also live in Utah (though old and weak) were able to attend his wedding and reception. As I said goodbye to them before they left the reception, I felt deeply impressed that it would truly be the last time I would ever see them. When I got home from my trip, I decided that it was time to be closer to my family and just like that, I packed up and moved to Utah.

My entire family spent Thanksgiving together at my grandparents house in Utah that year! It was to be the last time we would all be together. It was exactly what Thanksgiving is supposed to be, full of love and family! It couldn’t have been any better even if we had known it was to be our last!

My grandmother fell ill and passed away last February. I was able to visit her in the hospital, it was only 5 minutes from where I lived. During those visits, I had the chance to tell her how much her unwavering love meant to me. I had the chance to express my unconditional gratitude to her for loving me for my entire life, when she didn’t have to! I hugged her and kissed her for the very last time. I tried with everything I had to keep it together in that room, but as soon as I stepped outside the door to leave, I lost it! In that moment, crying alone in my car, I grieved her loss because I knew it would be the last time I would see her; she passed away 2 days later.

As we were all leaving her burial service and my father was saying goodbye to my grandpa (Grant, her husband), I heard my grandpa tell him, “Thank you! We couldn’t have ever loved you any more, even if you were our very own!” My eyes filled with tears at the sound of this sweet man, who had just lost his beloved sweetheart of 60 years, share his love and gratitude with my dad. When in reality, it’s through their humble gift of love that they taught us that family isn’t only born in the blood, but irrefutably, born in the heart as well!

More fond memories of Granddads

filed under: family, guest blog post

Today I bring you a guest post from my blogger friend  EmmySuh, who will introduce herself (and how we “met”) in her guest post for today :)  Emmy was so nice as to volunteer as well to help me keep this blog going while I am away and she’ll also share some memories from her granddads with us. Thanks so much, Emmy! It’s nice to see that others have good relationships and fond memories with their grandparents as well.

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Hi ya’ll!

Little background – my name is Emily, sometimes known as Emmy, and I blog at https://emmysuh.rachieann.com

It’s a whirlwind of insanity and hyperbole and choreography and poems and ridiculous antics over there, feel free to come visit me.

Anyway, I offered to guest post for San – San and I met via a mutual blogger friends, and got to know each other more while I was in Germany last summer. (My heritage is German, and German was my minor at school.)

When I asked what I should blog about, San said maybe something about my grandparents, in honor of her grandfather.

Unfortunately, within the last two years, both of my own grandfathers died – my dad’s dad from complications of Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s in May 2008, and my mom’s dad from colon cancer in February 2009.

It seems insane that my grandfather died right about this time last year. I still get caught with an ache in my chest every once in a while when I think about the hole in my world where he should be.

So, in honor of my grandfathers, and San’s recently deceased grandfather, and to all of ya’ll’s grandparents, living or dead, I’d like to repost what I wrote the week after my grandfather’s death in late February last year.

Hope you enjoy, and that it makes you think of a few precious memories of your own family, and cherish your time with them.

“First of all, I’d like to tell you just a little bit about my Grandpa (mom’s dad) who died this weekend.

The greatest thing about my Grandpa was his chuckle. A very jolly, solid sort of chuckle. I remember it well from my childhood, when I would be sitting on his lap whether we were overseeing the pastures on the tractor or on the porch swing or just on a bench in the gazebo. I’d say something cute and five-year-old-ish and his chuckle would reverberate through his chest, and in turn, make me giggle. It was always really comforting.

Grandpa was always a teacher. Sometimes this was annoying — when we just wanted to lay and bask in the sun poolside, he’d be coaxing us to learn how to do lifeguarding techniques, bringing out piles of his clothes for us to try on so we could attempt to tread water while weighed down. Sometimes, this was really sweet — from my childhood, I remember learning how to drive a tractor, ride a horse or swing a golf club.

He was always working, could never stand to sit still except after a long day of productivity. My mom’s half-brother said that even the last week before he went to the hospital, he was raking leaves at the ranch, although he was supposed to be resting. He really, really loved my mom and her siblings, and he really, really loved my sisters and me. Even when I would be annoyed about him asking what I was going to do with a Creative Writing degree in a skeptical tone, I still knew that he really, really loved me.

At first, when we heard the news, I was mainly sad for my mom. When I came home from Alvin Ailey [dance company performance I went to the night he died], she was sitting in the dark living room, by a picture of him and a lit candle. She kept saying things like, “I just don’t want to look away from this picture, he looks like he could step out and start talking to you.” or “He would hate being an invalid, that just wasn’t him.” or “He loved you girls so much. I remember how you all would run to greet him when he got home from work, and he just loved that.”

So I was so sad for my mom, because we very rarely see her like this. But today, for some inexplicable reason, I’ve just felt a darkness over my soul, and I couldn’t figure out why. I wanted to update the blog about my grandpa, and as I started writing, I started tearing up. (Sidebar: I’m at work. I had to duck into the copy room and dab my eyes. My chin keeps quivering. It’s awesome.)

It’s not that I didn’t think I did miss my grandfather, I just didn’t realize how much I would. Because he lived (ooo just had to change ”lives” to “lived” WEIRD) in Florida, because we live in Kentucky, because we’re not always super stable financially, because I’m a full-time student…we haven’t been able to connect/visit much over the past few years. I regret so much that I didn’t have a chance to see him one more time before he died — it’s been a couple years, at least. But he was a hugely important part of my life when I was younger, and once I started thinking about memories of him, I found several fond ones.

He was a good man, a loving father and grandfather, and he will be missed.