Sentimental Sunday: Sundays at Great Grandmom's House

Gramps and I, around 1988

When I was a young child, my mom and I lived with her father and brother in her father's house. My mom was a single parent, and thankfully my grandfather was there for her, watching me while she worked and sharing his home with us. My grandfather's commitment to family was not limited to his children and grandchildren. His mother, my great grandmother, lived to be 95 years old, and she lived independently until her late 80s. Every Sunday, Gramps would drive to her home in Philadelphia for the afternoon. He brought her groceries, helped her with bills and appointments, and just spent time talking to her and helping her around the house. Often he took me with him.

Great Grandmom

 I remember my grandmother's big old house was filled with clown and doll figurines that she allowed me to play with. She had a very mean cat who I was desperate to pet, but who always managed to keep away from my grasp (probably a good thing in hindsight--that cat would have clawed the hell out of me!). My grandmother would cook me grilled cheese if I got hungry while we were there. When I wasn't rearranging her figurines to my heart's content, Gramps and I would play Rummy, and I would read the comics from the newspapers he brought for my grandmother.

My great grandmother passed away in 2006. She had had a stroke several years before, and suffered from dementia until her death. I don't recall a single conversation I had with her as an adult. When I think of her, I remember the curls of her hair, that remained light brown with only a bit of white until her death. I remember her soft, gravely voice as she talked to "Richie," my grandfather. I remember the Sundays at her house, and her warm, soft hugs.