A Month of Thankful: Day 2

My Grandparents.

Today is the Feast of All Souls, a day to remember all those who have died but aren't yet in Heaven. (We celebrated those who are in Heaven yesterday, with the Feast of All Saints.)  While I have one living grandparent (technically, Mom Mom Woody is my husband's grandmother, but since she's never treated me any differently than any other grandchild, I'm claiming her), the rest have all passed away.  I know none were perfect, so I'm fully expecting they're settled into Purgatory for a bit.  (If I know the grandmothers correctly, I bet they will be there a while.  They were wonderful, good-hearted ladies, but took the idea of "Screeching up to the pearly gates saying, 'Wow, what a ride!" to heart long before anybody designed a meme for it.)  But I think what made them human is what made them so endearing to me, and makes me miss them.

Gram & Matthew October 2001

This is my Gram (with baby Matthew).  Her real name was Madeleine, but everyone called her Midge.  At only 5'4" with her hair, the nickname fit her much more comfortably.  You knew you were approaching "Adult" status if you were taller than her hair, although I think as we grew, she kept teasing it higher in self defense.  She was my mom's mother. Thankfully, I have tons of memories of her.  She came every week (sometimes two nights) for dinner and "Girl's Night Out" with my mom. They went and played Bingo, usually at St. Bart's in Philadelphia. You knew you were in for a good dinner if it was your turn to sit next to her -- it meant you were likely going to get a pass on having to finish your veggies.  She came with my family to Disney World one time when my mom asked her to join us.  THAT was the epitome of "What a mother will do..." Despite her "have suitcase, will travel" philosphy -- she never passed up a Senior Citizen trip -- she was petrified of flying.  Many years later, my parents and my children were sitting in the same spot on Main Street waiting for a parade, and I couldn't help but cry -- I could see myself and my gram sitting there so many years before.   She fell victim to ovarian cancer and died in 2005.  She had the most warped, wicked sense of humor, and so many times my mother and I have been talking about something and said, "Oh, if only your Gram was here, she'd be laughing so hard..."

Grammy & Poppy, Christmas 1977

Mom's father, Poppy, died when I was four years old.  I was so young and have so few memories of him, that I'm not sure if they're really my own, or what I was told of him.  One that I was told of was when he took my mother to be Baptized. He and Gram decided to name their little girl "Dale," but were stopped by the priest because it wasn't a "Saint's Name."  My grandfather panicked -- he could NOT bring this baby home without her being Christened.  (At the time, Mothers did not attend the Baptisms.  I think in that moment he may have feared for his own life when his wife found out the Christening was off more than he was worried for his daughter's soul.)  My great grandmother saved the day -- she said "Name the baby after her mother."  So my mother was christened "Madeleine Dale," starting a family tradition of "two first names, no middle."  My father then named us in the same manner, and Neal and I named our kids the same.   We say "Two firsts is Poppy's way of messing with peoples heads long after he's been gone." 

Neal, Meg & Celia - 1997

This is Neal's Grandmother, Mom Mom Cel.  She's the "Original" Celia Falciani, the namesake for three more generations, including our daughter. Like Mom Mom Woody, she never treated me any differently than her other granddaughters.  She was a lady who told things how she saw them.  She was a preacher's daughter, but that didn't stop her from enjoying a game of cards. She also didn't take kindly to people who played "nice" because she was a little old lady.  Give her an inch, and she'd mop the floor with you.   Our Celia reminds me of her in spirit  - she does nothing by halves, and yes, give an inch and you're done for.

Pop Pop Falciani ("Pop Pop Vince") & Baby Luke, 1998

Neal's grandfather was a shrewd businessman.  He also didn't suffer fools easily.  (I see a lot of him in his son and grandson.)   Often Neal would go up to help him at the motel he owned, and be drawn into a long conversation about the stock market.  Watching stocks and guessing where they'd go was his hobby.  A sad thing from his and Mom Mom's life is they did not get along well -- I think they were too much alike.  However, that didn't stop him from caring for her.  Though they lived apart for many years, and he may have often grumbled about her, he always saw that she was cared for.  Others may disagree, but I think he loved her to the end despite not liking her; the man I saw next to her casket was as shaken as any other widower.   I didn't think he could ever die -- he had two heart attacks that nearly killed him just after Neal and I started dating, and we weren't sure he'd be around to attend our wedding. Not only was he there for our wedding, but also the christening of three babies.   It was hard to believe that death could take him, but he took sick while visiting his daughter Celia in Florida, and died there. My last living grandfather, he was buried the day before Thanksgiving 2005.

Mom Mom & Pop Pop Woody, Meg & Neal, 1997

Charlotte and Thomas Woodward are also Neal's grandparents.  Charlotte, or Mom Mom Woody, just turned 96 a few weeks ago.  She had a stroke a few years ago, and scared the life out of all of us, but she's doing well and celebrated her 96th birthday last month.  She told me so many stories - of when she was a child, growing up the daughter of a haberdasher, and of when she was a young woman and singing with Jan Savitt & the Top Hatters on the radio back in the late 1930s, and lots of good ones about my husband as a child.  She was a country doctor's wife -- her first husband, Dr. Benjamin Broselow,  was the only doctor in this area for miles. She was at his side when helped found the local hospital (that we can say we have a good relationship with their current ER team).   Pop Pop Broselow died when Neal was a toddler, and she met and married Pop Pop Woody several years later. (Prior to her remarriage, she was just Mom Mom, and got renamed "Mom Mom Woody" to go with "Pop Pop Woody.")  Woody loved to tell stories (he was an Irishman, after all!).  He was one of the men who stormed the Normandy beaches in WWII, and told great stories of being in the service.  He was also a doctor (a psychiatrist), and loved medicine so much that he practiced long after most doctors would have retired. Pop Pop Woody died in 2000, and was the first grandparent that I was close (and really, the first man I remember as a grandfather) to to die.  It still stings.

Grandpop Shade, c. 1942

My paternal grandfather, William W. Shade.  Handsome in his Air Force uniform, huh?  Explains why after less than a week of courting, he and my grandmother married.  I never really knew him personally, as he died just a few months before I was born, but in a way I do -- in the ethics and knowledge of my own father.  Grandpop owned a grocery store, and my dad learned how to bag groceries "properly" at an early age.  I learned by watching Dad, and to this day want to scream when someone packs a grocery bag the "wrong" way.  (This probably is why I don't like grocery shopping -- bagging is a lost art.)  He expected all of his children to be capable of anything - from laundry to mechanics - regardless of gender.  Definitely a man ahead of his time. 

Grandmom Shade & Meg, Christmas 1977

This is my dad's mom, Marie.  Our family's relationship was very rocky -- and as an adult, I can understand.  Grandmom Shade had bipolar disorder, and it was very difficult for her to control.  The first time I learned of this I was eight years old and home sick from school. My mother unwrapped our Nativity set while I was camped on the couch, and I saw the box had her address on it.  When I asked why we hardly saw her (as opposed to my Gram), Mom told me it was because she was sick and sometimes hard to be around.  I have memories of her from when I was a teen - she used to sew doll clothes as a hobby and let me make an outfit one time.  I have two beaded and well-loved Christmas ornaments that she made.  They mean as much to me as the brightest star.  I think she loved everyone as much as she could, and the balls remind me that love isn't perfect and bedraggled is just as beautiful.

Mom Mom Leonard, 1977

I can't forget one last special lady.  An "honorary" grandmother, this is Mom Mom Leonard.  Officially my cousin's grandmother, she was a wonderful, fun lady.  She had a shore house in Rehoboth Beach, DE and I have many fond memories of times spent there.  

Today, I'm thankful for all of my grandparents, no matter how I acquired them.