Generations of Love – One Daughter to Another

My oldest daughter was born in 1987.  We celebrated her birthday last week.  When she was born and I held that sweet baby in my arms, I never knew so much love could exist in my heart.

Six weeks after her birth my maternal Grandmother passed away on Sept 28, 1987.  I found something that I wrote about the two of them at that time.  I was 25 years old.

“When these two events occurred I was impressed by the course of life and how I go on each day, one at a time.  Many hours adding up to many days that turn into many years.  When my baby was born and my Grandmother died within six weeks of each other, I had to stop and reflect.  My precious baby was just beginning her life, unaware of the events that spanned my Grandmother’s time.  A baby girl was born.  A Grandmother died. The two will never meet to share the knowledge of each other’s lives.  My baby to bring a fresh new outlook to my Grandmother so they could reminisce about how it was done in my Grandmother’s day.  My Grandmother to share her wisdom, experience, and stories of old.”

After hearing about my Grandma Walton’s death, I sat and rocked my beautiful baby girl.  I told her about the white-haired lady who used to make me laugh.

Grandma Walton

I have a very vivid early memory (maybe six years old) of sitting in my Grandma Walton’s kitchen in Monterey, California.  I was eating the best shrimp cocktail ever and swear that I could see the ocean out her back window.  When she was older, she moved next door to my Aunt in Sacramento.  My Mom and I spent my senior year of high school living with my Aunt, so I was fortunate to be close to my Grandma then.  I took the time for granted, though.  But who doesn’t when they are 17 or 18 years old?  (I could not even find a picture of her in my collection.)  She had a coin collection that we would go through.  She would tell stories that I regret I don’t remember today.  I loved my Grandma and have the fondest memories of her.

Oma – My Mom

My Mother was close by when my oldest daughter was born.  My daughter knew “Oma” (as Mom liked to be called) for a few years.  By the time my daughter was about seven years old, however, my Mother had full onset Alzheimer’s and didn’t know her.  My oldest daughter has a faint recollection of her “Oma”, but my youngest daughter does not remember her at all.

Papa and Granny

The two most influential grandparents for my girls were their Papa and Granny (my dad and step-mom).  When my oldest was six months old, we moved to Arkansas and initially lived within a few miles of them.  A year later we moved about an hour away.

They loved my little girl so very much.  Papa and Granny delighted in giving her the first taste in her life of ice cream and giggled that they had done so.  They would take my daughter and my nephew for a week during the summer.  Trips to Cici’s pizza they loved.  Granny making tape recordings of the kids talking and singing and playing.  Planting trees then stomping and stomping and stomping to pack down the dirt (and stomping some more because Papa said to do so).  The electric fence they were told not to touch but my nephew did anyway.  And Papa laughed.

My youngest daughter was born in 1995.  They loved this little girl, too.  Papa and Granny were a little older and took all three of them for a week for a couple of summers, but after that it was too much for them to handle.  Never, though, did they miss a birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, family vacation, or any other family occasion/event.  They were there for my girls.  They were constant.

My girls have some wonderful and funny memories to cherish.  They laugh now about breakfast, lunch, snack, and dinner time being very routine and regimented during visits.  No food or drinks allowed outside of the kitchen except Papa’s 2:00 p.m. and 4:00 p.m. coffee.

We were fortunate that Papa and Granny were able to watch my oldest daughter get married in 2012.  Papa and her dad walked her down the aisle to marry a wonderful young man.

Granny passed away May 6, 2013, a week or two before my youngest graduated from high school.  Their Papa passed away September 12, 2015.  We miss them.

One Daughter to Another

Within the next three or four weeks, my oldest daughter will have a son, her due date being September 13.  I cannot imagine possessing a deeper love for him than I do my own girls, but I hear that it is a love like no other.  

A Papa dies.  A son is born.

When I hold and rock that precious baby boy, I will tell him about his Great-Papa and Great-Granny, his Great-Oma, and his Great-Great Grandma, and he will feel and know the generations of love that flow through me to him.

And You?

Any thoughts or memories you would like to share about your family?  I would love to read them.