I spent so many years with Grandma Mckee, Grandpa McKee and Great Grandma Bright I felt like an adult long before I was. My bro would play outside, I would stay with Great Grandma. I loved my Grandma's house, so big and full of antiques.
They had a staircase hidden behind closet doors, a laundry shoot we affectionately named "the hole", as in "throw your towel down the hole." Of course my bro always threw his toys down there, star wars action figures,army men, a few matchbox cars. I would have to go get them.
They had a huge yard, an acre when we were small. Lots of places to hide. My Grandma had me convinced she was friends with every bird on the block, she always knew where I was so I believed her. I hated those crows, every time I heard one I'd try to hide.
One day I decided to write the #5 in chalk all over the patio pillars which were made of red brick. I was a Speedracer fan, #5 was the number on his car. You can still see the #5 on a few of those pillars. That must have been some good chalk !
I remember occasionally waiting for my Grandma to go out to the other room so I could spin the spinning wheel she had in the dining room. Every once in awhile she heard it squeak and I'd hear her yell. "Get away from than darn wheel ! " Then I'd run off so she'd think it was my brother. (He's going to love me admitting that one)
Great Grandma was something else. Always calm quiet and sweet. She was born in England in 1899. She'd tell me things about when she grew up. We'd make jelly and cookies. She was the Grandma who let me have fun. We always had Campbell's soup for lunch. If I was hungry she'd say "How about a nice poached egg?" YUCK, I never took her up on that one. It must have been an English thing.
She made "bread and milk" for me, a depression dish I guess, but I loved it. Warm milk in a pan with vanilla,cinnamon,nutmeg,sugar,tear up a few pieces of bread. A cheap man's oatmeal I suppose but Grandma made it and I loved it.
She got me hooked on soap opera's. We'd watch them together. She knew every character, several years of their history and she never forgot any details. We'd get done with the soap's just before Grandma McKee came home. Around 4:30 Grandpa would walk in the door as well. Chiclets gum always in his pocket for me. Every night at 5:00 PM no matter what, dinner was served. Grandma McKee would always make a huge meal. No one can match her mashed potatoes.
The best part of dinner was talking with my Grandparents. Every night without fail my Grandpa would ask if anyone had "asked about him" that day, like he was famous. He'd laugh when we'd tell him No. For the longest time I thought he was really under the impression he was the town star. Grandpa didn't talk much, a man a few words. When he did you paid attention. Over the years he fixed my toys, my bike, my cars. There wasn't anyone like my Grandpa.
My whole life I lived close to them until I married.
The day Grandma Bright died my Grandparents called to tell me. It felt like nothing would ever be the same. She was 96 and lived only a few miles away until I moved out of state that very year.
I was happy to move back home a few years later. My husband was stationed about 30 minutes from where my Grandparents lived. I talked to Grandma on the phone everyday and went to see her almost as often. Grandpa died within the next year but that year was worth more than anything money could buy.
Now it was just Grandma McKee holding the family together. Such a strong but loving force. I saw her once a week at least, drove her around,spent the time, holidays.
Several strokes took her life after a year fight. She told me she wanted us to be okay. She just didn't want to leave us. She tried so hard to walk alone again.She did not want to give up. Somedays she was so clear, I thought she'd recover. Other days she sounded so tired.Time came when she had to let go.
After weeks of my Mother telling her we were all okay, we'd all be okay. That she could let go. She finally did.
Holidays and even life just isn't the same now. I try to do everything like she did. Make the holidays nice, all the trimmings, keep the traditions. I do my best. It's not the same. My Mother doesn't make it for holidays, without the force of Grandma.No one does. It's hard I know. Six hours aways and many miles.
My children tell me, nothing is the same. I know they are right. I keep trying.
I tell stories about the Grandparents and I remember. I want to make sure my children never forget them. My heart pulls when they tell me they just want to go to Grandma's again. They ask why cant it be the same. No one's there at Grandma's anymore so I keep on telling the stories. They are alive in our hearts. Those memories are the family.
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Comments: 35
this is a lovely rememberance and I am so glad you decided to share. Losing someone you love is never easy, but having been loved so well always stays with you. Take Care,
Hazel
Bread pudding, chiclets, and soap operas. Your Grandma sounds like a very bright lady. Trying to keep the traditions alive: my Mum always said my Nanny's house was too gaudy at Christmas, but I loved it. Thanks.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts and memories about your grandparents. You are so lucky to have had their love and they in turn were lucky for having you. Keep them alive by remembering and sharing.
Just beautiful Joyce!
Keep doing those family traditions and don't be afraid to make some new ones of your own. You were lucky to have your grandma for so many years. Great story.
I HAVE A NEW READ WHEN YOU GET TIME
My maternal grandmother chattered constantly at the supper table. It wasn't really chatter that was best for a child's hearing. It was things my grandmother loved to talk about. Some things were ok, like Little Italy and Little Poland, etc. the neighborhoods in Erie where those who came from afar settled in. She told how she learned Polish, and went around serving as interpreter for city workers. But then she claimed that my Great Aunt Martha was able to tell fortunes, and tell when someone was going to die, and how there were little lights in trees by houses where people were going to die, and you could smell death, etc. She retold those stories over and over. She told about Aunt Martha's daughter Thora who had to be locked in a room, and who screamed and screamed. She died when she was in her 30's. She called Rice "Fice". Martha had married a man she met in response to a lonely hearts club posting in the newspaper, but the marriage didn't last and she moved from Renova PA back to Erie.
Little by little grandparents, great grandparents and great and great great aunts and uncles "disappear" as the French state it. Il est disparu.
But these folks and stories about them live on in our memories and our stories we reccount.
But these folks and stories about them live on in our memories and our stories we reccount.
Very true Pat.
Your grandparents will live on in your memories. Someday, your kids will tell their kids the stories that you are telling them now. We continue to live as long as we are remembered.
I sat here smiling through your story, and I shed tears for the emptiness now in your life. I'm sure they are still with you, and watching over you. Thanks for sharing the link with us, and congratulations on having it featured.
We do also have Irish roots in our family.
Scotch Irish & Irish.
No one I have ever met has ever heard of it before. lol
I think that is because many people I know are from California & their Grandparents were even born here.
My Great Grandma was born in England in 1899 like I said in my article.
My Grandmother Joyce (her daughter) was born in Pa.
I always wondered where the dish came from.
Now they are all gone, I have no one left to ask.
Maybe you know about more things I had had in my family...lol
Where were your parents born?
I am really wondering now if it was something carried over from our Irish side. We never knew who my Great Grandma's father was. It was never spoken of, even she did not know.
They always speculated in the family that he could have been Irish,English or German as those were the common races in the small town where she was born.
So its called Goodie? How wonderful. I love to learn all I can about my family's history.
Thanks so much for the comments Everyone.
Knowing someone enjoys hearing these tales will keep me inpired to write about them.
Joyce
Thanks also Sally for coming to check out my article.
Mother's & Grandmother's can be so close to us, its hard to stand their loss.
All of their strength is within our hearts. We will be okay. Life has a way of going on, even if you do not want it too.
Still, a piece of your heart seems to die when they do. The loss stays with you.
Yet life goes on.
I keep the memories alive by writing down my story.
So my children do not forget how special she was.
I know they will not & as long as I have done my job well.
I will be happy.