My passions for spending time with seniors started early on in my life. As a young girl, I was very attached to my grandparents, Joe and Rosie. At that time in my life, we all lived in England. Every Friday night my grandparents would take either the bus or train from Liverpool to where were lived in a small English town a couple of hours away. They would stay until after tea on Sunday and then hop on a bus or train back home to Liverpool.
I recall the joy I felt at the end of the week knowing we could be together for the weekend. When my grandparents were visiting, I often recall turning down offers to play with my friends. I much preferred to spend time with my grandparents.
My grandmother, Rosie, was loved by all. She was one heck of a cook! I especially remember her home-made dumplings she would make for chicken soup and the smell of the kippers she would fry with eggs for breakfast.
My grandfather, Joe, could be a little tough sometimes; however, I was the exception. I was his princess, and I loved every minute it. He was a talented carpenter that could build just about anything.
This is one of my favourite memories of my grandfather:
Besides being a boxer, if there was one thing my grandfather was known for, it was his love for horse-racing. Every Saturday morning he would get up early, find his newspaper, and choose his horses for the day. He would then ask me to close my eyes and point to the name of a horse that was running that day so he would place a bet for me. I loved it!
But what I loved more is that every Saturday for many years the horse I chose always won its race! I could hardly wait for my grandfather to return home so I could find out how much, as he called it, “pocket change” I had won for that day. I think what he loved the most is how I would greet him at the door, giddy and giggly and always so happy to see him.
Sadly the time came when my family left England and moved to America. I hated being away from my grandparents. We often spoke on the telephone but it was not the same. Within a few months of us moving so far away, my grandfather went to live in heaven. I was crushed! I recall thinking that maybe because he loved me so much, that when I left, he died of a broken heart.
It was many, many years into my adult life when one day it occurred to me that my horse, the one I had chosen every Saturday morning with my eyes closed, had likely never won a single race. But my grandfather wanted me to be a winner and he made sure that I was.
My grandmother Rosie lived to the ripe old age of 88. And was as spunky as ever until her battle with colon cancer reunited her for eternity with my grandfather Joe, the love of her life.
The memories of my grandparents have carried me through many sad times. Even though it’s been over 40 years since my grandfather passed, I still miss him. I miss our talks, the silly songs he would sing, and, of course, our Saturday mornings picking out the winning horses.
I feel my grandparents legacy is such a gift. I would like to think that, because of them, I have learned to be a loving grandmother to my grandchildren. Long after my grandparents left this world, through me my grandchildren will see their great, great grandparents' lights shining brightly forever.
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