If you have had the privilege to grow up with grandparents, I envy you. That's a bridge to knowledge I have never really had in my path. There are so many life secrets I've had to learn out of pain, when I could have learned them out love from a grandparent.
On March 25, at the age of 26, I rode with my grandfather for the first time.
I left my house early, a little before sunrise. I was scared because I didn't have my glasses. I didn't trust my car and I was scheduled to speak at a conference. As I made my way onto the major road, the smell of old canned beer filled my car. I looked around knowing nobody else was there.
My mind immediately shifted to when my mother told me about her driving through a storm and the car filling up with a smell. She said she knew at that moment it was her dad. That morning, I couldn't remember what the smell was in her story, or maybe I was just too reluctant to want to remember. So I told myself that the smell was coming from the old white pick-up truck that had just pulled in front of me.
For some reason, that white truck pulled over on the side of the road and let me pass. I couldn't see who was in the truck to wave, so I stayed on my route. I made it to the conference and had a wonderful time. On my way home, the smell wasn't there.
A week later, I asked my mother what the smell was in her car when she knew her dad was with her. She said, "it's like old beer. Old cans, if you know what I mean." Before she could finish her sentence I was crying. I told her what happened between sobs. She told me that he was there with me and, even though I couldn't see him, everybody else could.
I enjoyed my first car ride with my grandfather. He didn't tell me any secrets, but he kept me safe.
I have never been the type to hang around old people. I hate repeating myself and sometimes I don't want to hear how I have gained weight. However, that doesn't change the fact that I believe old people, especially grandparents, are important. I have vague memories of my grandparents. I only have one living grandmother. I only know what my parents tell me, like my granddad smelling of beer.
I met my mother's father as a baby. He knew me, loved me and protected me even though I never knew him. I never met my father's father. I think about my grandparents a lot, what they may have been like. I get angry at the world for not having grown up with them. I believe having them would have given me pieces of myself that are missing. What if I laugh like one of them? I could ask if I need to keep hiding my thunderous laughter or just let it out. I could ask about the changes in the world.
Love your papaws and mamaws because they love you. Remember to always make time to go eat your hamburgers, because there are a lot of us out here wishing for a plate.
