by Jocelyn Weiss

in issue four
Scintillations
Purple Bikini
Saraswati
Change In Air
Sarah's Gift
Fairy Chimes
Real Dreams
Xena
Writer?
Younger Self
Fledgling Artiste
Goddess Poetry
No McD's In Cuba
AF Photographers
Goddess On Phone
Moody Girl
Met The Goddess
To My Mother
Life Changing Books
Girl Crushes
Universe Spoke
Visualize This!
Contributors

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future issues
Issue Five: Bravery
Issue Six: Friendship

previous issues
Issue One: Change
Issue Two: Balance
Issue Three: Spring

Dear Mom,

My grandmothers have played a very important role in my life.  I feel deeply the matrilineal link from Great Grandmother to Grandmother to Mother to Daughter.  As it is now your turn to bear the noble title of Grandmother, I want to share with you some memories that reveal why my grandmothers are so important to me.

You and I have had such very different experiences of grandmothers.  Your grandmother lived with you and had a large role in your upbringing.  I know you struggled with your relationship with her, even after she died.  But for me, my grandmother, your mother, lived far away most of my life and seeing her was always a treat. 

Mema and I have a very special relationship.  My childhood memories are filled with her.  I think my earliest memory of Mema is when I was still very young.  We were living in Caldwell, New Jersey, and I was sick.  I was in the bed by the window in that big room I shared with my sister, and Mema came over with toys from her store, coloring books and cutout dolls.  She sat on my bedside and played with me for hours. 

After we moved to California, I can't remember a weekend that I didn't get my three minutes on the phone with her, telling her all the things that had happened to me during the week, good and bad.  I remember going back east to visit and "working" in the store, earning toys.  I distinctly recall the small refrigerator in the back room always had some off-brand bottle of cola.  We'd eat our lunch in the back room and drink cola over ice. Now, whenever I buy some off-brand cola and pour it over ice cubes that first sip will bring me back to summers in the store.

When Mema sold the store back east and moved to California I must have been around 16, because I remember driving her around.  In particular I remember pulling into our driveway after taking Mema to the bank.  There had been some problem at the bank that I didn't fully understand.  Mema was visibly upset.  I must have said something like "it will be OK" and she lost it.  She said, "No, Jocelyn, it won't be OK, don't you understand that's my life's savings" and she started to cry.  She recovered momentarily, but in that instant I saw my strong, capable, in-control icon of womanhood breakdown.  It terrified me then.  But now it is a reminder of her great strength and resilience in the face of adversity.

Now that I am an adult, Mema is a never-ending source of strength and support, a confidante and counselor.  She has such vast experience and knowledge.  And her unconventional nature has allowed her to be open to the changes in lifestyles that have occurred during her lifetime.  Her contemporary outlook attracts people of all generations.  Everyone adores her.

She has a lighter side too, and is often a source of great hilarity.  I am constantly laughing with my siblings over something Mema has said or done.  I remember when she first met her boyfriend, Ed.  I had seen a report on the news about senior citizens in Florida contracting AIDS at a frightening rate because they were having unprotected sex.  I wasn't about to let this happen to my Mema.  I had no choice; I had to do it…I had to have the "safe-sex" talk with my grandmother.  I have never laughed so hard as when my 80-something grandmother confided, "Well, he's already asked me if I want to do it with or without."  I said, "You have to do it with." And she said, "Come on, he's only recently widowed and he told me he was faithful to his wife." To which I responded, "Look, you're old enough to know that a man will say anything to get into your pants."  We both erupted into hysterical laughter.

I know I am fortunate to have such an intimate relationship with this amazing woman.  But Mema isn't the only grandmother who's had a strong influence in my life.  Grandma Rose, Mema's mother, your grandmother, has also been an inspiration for me.

I don't remember much about Grandma Rose when she was alive.  I recall her sitting in the TV room at Mema's house watching television and presiding over the table at holiday dinners. You've told me that I was the only grandchild she paid any attention to, that she would hold me and feed me, and that I looked like her as a baby.

But my relationship with Grandma Rose didn't really start until a few years after she died.

I remember lying in my bed the night you told me she died, the bedroom door was open and the light in the hallway was on.  I tried to think about her and what it meant that she was dead.  I don't think I came up with anything. 

But the story you and Mema told me of her death has always held a strange fascination for me.  How she said "goodbye" instead of "good night" to Mema before she went upstairs to go to bed as if she knew it was really goodbye.  And that she died in her sleep with a smile on her face as if she had rejoined those she loved and missed from her younger life.

Do you remember the story of how I saw Grandma Rose one night while I was sleeping in her bed?  I had reluctantly gone to her bed to avail myself of the air conditioner in that bedroom one hot summer night when I was back east visiting.  I awoke at 3AM to see Grandma Rose sitting at the foot of the bed watching me.  I was terrified and ran out of the room.  I spent the rest of the night sweltering in your old lilac-colored bedroom.

What you may not know, is that a few years later a friend's grandmother, who was blind but who could see auras and spirits, told me that everyone has a guardian spirit who watches over them and protects them when they can.  She looked intently at me and told me that my guardian spirit was very strong, someone I had known early in my life, and her name was something like Ruth, no Rose.  Well, the blood must have drained completely from my face.  I told her about that hot summer night when I'd seen Grandma Rose on the bed. (It was the first time I had ever told anyone about it.)  She assured me that it had been nothing to be afraid of, that Grandma Rose was just watching me and protecting me and that it was a very good sign that I was able to see her.

Since then I have often felt Grandma Rose's presence and she's been a strong figure in a few powerful dreams.  I have created a fantasy about her based only loosely on what you and Mema have told me. I imagine her as a strong, capable, intelligent woman with opinions of her own; a Socialist who read the Daily Worker newspaper proudly on her porch during the terror of McCarthyism; a feminist who marched for female suffrage; and a survivor who built a good life for her and her eldest daughter during the depression.

I like to think that I am like her in some ways.  I am proud that she is a part of me.  I hope she is proud of who I have become. 

I would not be the person I am today if it were not for these strong links to my matrilineal ancestors.  They have helped to shape who I am in ways that only a grandmother can.

Grandmothers can have a very different kind of influence on the life of a child than mothers.  They can be more detached from the day-to-day upbringing and can be a friend and confidant, while still providing discipline and guidance.  Grandmothers often let you do things and have things that your parents don't.  They provide an important source of unconditional love. 

Mom, I know you will be all this and more to your future grandchildren.  And, as I remember my grandmothers in the context of your upcoming coronation to this prestigious office, I wonder what indelible memories your future grandchildren will write about you when their mothers become grandmothers.

I know you can't wait to find out.

Love,

Jocelyn