Grandma Clara

As a grandmother, Mother's Day has taken on new meaning for me. This year, in particular, I have been thinking a lot about my grandmother, or my step-grandmother to be more precise. I never met my father’s mother. She died many years before my parents even met. I only ever knew my grandfather’s wife, Grandma Clara, as my paternal grandmother.

My grandmother Clara never had children of her own, so she never really quite understood how to handle my siblings and me. Quiet times of chatting and reading were her style, not the jumping and shouting that we were more prone to do. We always knew that there was a certain standard for behavior when we went to Grandma’s.

Her furniture was all plastic covered, and there were definitely no feet on the sofa! Every knick-knack and doily was meticulously placed in each room of her house. Many times visits were held outside on her front porch. She didn’t trust three wild little ones very much!

But as I grew older, I learned to appreciate my grandmother. She shared her stories of being a working woman in the 1950s, something that my mother and maternal grandmother knew nothing of. Grandma had been completely independent her entire life and she was immensely proud of that. She loved my grandfather dearly, but she was also confident that she could manage on her own if needed.

When I was pregnant with Tiffany, my grandmother and I shared another bond. She lived the pregnancy that she never had with me. When Tiffany was born, she presented me with some beautiful silk that she had purchased in Asia many years before. She had bought it to make a christening gown for the child she hoped to have someday. Together we planned the dress that would be made for my daughter, her great-granddaughter.

My grandmother loved watching Tiffany grow up. I would frequently send pictures and we would talk on the phone. We would have luncheon outings, and she would share with me her regrets about not being able to have children. I would share my concerns about how to raise Tiffany, and she would give me her advice, what she would have done.

Grandma Clara passed away a few years ago. She was ninety-two when she died. Although she never truly experienced motherhood, she helped me to appreciate it. I will forever be grateful for her support and her confidence in me. She was a grandmother in every sense of the word to me. I just wish that she could have met my granddaughter, Chloe. I’d love to share with her how I hope to be like her in many ways.