We visited my mother's mother every other Sunday afternoon. She was in a home and I never really knew her. When we recently moved my mother to assisted living I found old papers and documents of my grandmother's and my heart broke when I read them. It made me wish I had been able to really know her while she was alive. I do ponder the human condition.
I barely remember my father's parents and his paternal grandfather (who lived with my grandparents). They did not like my mother at all. They did not consider my parents married because they didn't marry in the Church. When I was a kid the difference between Catholic and Protestant was enormous and for many families, there could be no mixing at all.
I kind of strayed....I do that, ya know.
This post was edited by Thriftymaid at March 18, 2020 11:02 AM MDT
Met my mother's mother once when I was 14 - a journey of over 2,000 miles by car. Not impressed. She had bottles of brandy everywhere "for medicinal purposes." Had a tongue like a cat-o-nine-tails no topic immune. My mother's father died six weeks before she was born.
My father's parents were both dead long before I was born. He was 53 when he conceived me.
My family is so small that I'm almost the only one left.
I knew all four of them, thankfully, although two are now dead (my dad's father and my mom's mother). My dad's parents live here in northern California, but my mom's parents live in Chubu region, Japan.
In my lifetime, the only grandparents of mine I ever knew where maternal. They had not lived together as husband and wife since my mother was a small child, perhaps younger than five years old. My maternal grandparents had met each other in Oklahoma or Nebraska, and as was not too uncommon for Black folks of that era, moved to various parts of the country throughout their lives. My mother was their first child, she was born in Mississippi.
My maternal grandmother lived in the same city where I was born (deliberately not named here), and from my earliest memories, one of the best things in the whole world was going over to her house. My mother had only one sibling, her younger sister, and she also lived in that city. While I was growing up, my four siblings, my cousins and I loved going over to grandma’s house. Sometimes, our grandmother would gather up as many of us in the entire brood as she could for what she called, “I’m going to take you all downtown and let you wet your whistle”. It meant she’d take us to the Woolworth’s lunch counter or McDonald’s and buy us each a soda. Not a meal, not a snack, not candy nor pastries, ONE soda each. We loved every minute of it. Not once do I remember ever asking for more than that nor do I remember even wanting any more than that. Back then, kids didn’t drink soda every day like they do now. Also, fast food joints weren’t as prolific as they are now, so going to McDonald’s was an uncommon occurrence for us, especially as poor as we were. Buying a soda for up to as many as eleven kids was all my grandmother could afford. Woolworth’s was really big-time too, I remember spinning around on the swivel stools. My favorite drink was orange soda.
I think I was about four years old when I met my maternal grandfather. He was living about 1,000 miles from my hometown, my mother has been afraid of flying on planes her whole life, so she packed us up and we took the train to go visit him. It took at least two days, maybe three, because it wasn’t a direct route 1,000 miles away. It sure was a great adventure for a four-year-old boy. We spent about a week with him and then returned home on the train. He never stayed in one city or one state for more than a few years, so I only saw him a few times as I was growing up. He never lived in my hometown when I was growing up.
When I was about 26 years old, my grandmother died. I was in the Marine Corps, stationed at Camp LeJuene, North Carolina, married with one child. I traveled back home for her funeral. It was the first time in many, many years that my siblings and I all gathered together.
My maternal grandfather passed away when he was well into his late eighties or early nineties. I was not able to attend his services.
I have never known my biological father, so I know nothing of my paternal grandparents. ~
My grandmas are both alive and mostly well and I really hope they stay that way long enough for my kids to have some memories of them. I never knew my grandpas because they died before I was born.
I did know both of my grandmothers-in-law. My M-I-L's mom absolutely hated me. She let me know it by always inserting an article before my name when she talked about me. I was "that Livvie". Fortunately, they lived long enough to meet my kids and I hope my kids have at least have some memories of them but I don't know if that'll happen or not. I didn't know either of my grandfathers-in-law because one died before my husband was born and the other died when he was three so he only has a faint memory of that grandpa.
My kids adore my mom, my dad, my stepmom, my M-I-L and my stepfather-in-law but unfortunately my F-I-L has some serious issues and just isn't interested in his grandkids so I really hope that changes someday.
My maternal grandparents divorced when my mother was really young and both remarried long before I was born. Therefore, I had six grandparents and for years, I thought everyone did. I got to know all of them well.
I knew both of my grandfathers. I have no memories of my maternal grandmother and only the haziest recollection of my paternal one - mum's mother passed when I was eighteen months old, dad's shortly before my third birthday.
My Dad's....Dad, Step-Mom, Mom, His Mom's Mom and Dad My Mom's...Mom, Step-Dad, Dad, Her Mom's Mom My Step-Mom's...Mom
That is 10. Yes, I knew them all.
All but 4 were still alive when I had my children. My daughter had 13 living Grandparents when she was born. My sons had 11. They are down to 4 now...(all my Grandparents are gone now)
My mom's dad died when I was five. He had a stroke and kept calling me a little bastard near the end. Her mom died when I was eleven. I really loved Granny and it tore me up when she died. I didn't know my dad's parents. His mom burned to death, putting kerosene on coals from the day before that she thought were extinguished. His dad had a heart attack trying to break Dad and my uncle apart while they were having a drunken fight. That's the day Dad quit drinking.
I knew my great-grandfather and actually met him a few times. I also knew my grandfather (not blood) and grandmother. My "blood" grandfather abandoned the family soon after my mother and two of her sisters were born. My grandmother remarried sometime after. All of these people were on my mothers' side. On my father's side, his father died before I was born. My father's mother also died before I was born.
This post was edited by Zack at March 19, 2020 1:22 AM MDT
Funny question, so here goes. I only knew three of my grandparents
Paternal Grandfather died when my dad was 11. So many mysteries regarding him that will never be answered
Paternal Grandmother died when she was in her late 90's. Saw her a lot in Graduate School, and when on Leave from the Corps she was the 1st stop I made when coming back to town. She died the year before I was married
Maternal Grandfather died when I was 6 or 7, before that he made 2 trips a year to Wyoming to visit me and my sisters
Maternal Grandmother died when I was in Junior High. She was mean as a snake and hated men. Being the only Grandson on that side of the family I received all of her venom and then some. She was so mean spirited the doctors figured that was the major cause of the Stroke which killed her.
I did know my Maternal Grandmothers great great Aunts and Great Uncle - her Aunts and Uncles who lived until they were 100 plus or close to it. They were the nicest people on the face of the planet and pleasant until their dying day. They were a lot of fun to visit in Grad School and before.
Probably just one (as grandpa) with/from my other relative-mother, the other ones-not my grandpa, & the one that's not even a grandpa who had passed away.
inky 