I’ve been thinking about how lucky our grandsons are to have all four grandparents still living. My mother’s mother passed away when I was two years old. Her husband who lived well into his nineties was the only grandparent in my life.
I never knew my father’s parents and that didn’t bother me until we became grandparents. If I knew their first names, and I don’t think I did, I have forgotten them.
I decided to do some investigating. I called my older brother. He didn’t know their names either. Then I tried Google.
I was surprised to see that my father and mother showed up—no details, no Facebook page, but a record of their existence. And for a fee, I might be able to learn more. However, I know a lot about my parents, so that was not necessary.
Without their first names, I couldn’t find anything about my grandparents.
So I called Florence, my 95-year old half sister. She didn’t remember when our father's parents died, but she knew that their names were Philip and Rebecca. She said Becky was an angel. She didn’t say much about Grandpa Philip.
Our grandchildren won’t have to search the Internet to learn about us. A couple of years ago, our son Jeremy asked us to write about our lives, which we did. He also videotaped us talking about our lives for our grandchildren to have after we are gone.
No such luck for me.