Ever since my grandfather passed away, my mother’s been anxious for my Nani (the Urdu term for maternal grandmother) to come stay with us. My Nani was also surprisingly open to the idea of leaving her home with my one of my uncles in Pakistan for a few months to come spend several months at our home.
Now, as her visit draws to a close, I’ve been forced to reflect on how her presence has somehow altered our entire family scene.
For one, family dinners have become something I look forward to. My parents were always big on family dinners but we’d have dinner on the floor usually, with everyone eating whatever (or arguing over eating whatever).
Now, we set the dining table every night with our ‘good dinner set’ and best cutlery and eat the delicious home-cooked food Nani whips up.
My grandmother loves to cook, and despite my mom’s protests, she was determined to continue cooking here, going so far as to cut amazing salads with every dinner, and sometimes making up to three dishes a night (although, she is rather heavy-handed with her use of oil).
There’s also a different vibe in the house now—a sort of frenetic energy that zaps us all. I never considered the seclusion of how we lived before odd; we’d come from school or work and retreat to our separate caves to continue on school and work and then sleep in our separate holes, making a brief appearance at dinner where we acknowledged each other’s existence.
Now, the sounds of laughter, television, and rapid Urdu in the common area draw my sister and I down often, and we’ll spend hours just wasting time in aimless chit-chat with my mother and Nani.
Of course, there are the more difficult times; I’ve learned that seniors are amazing at holding grudges and because my Nani is as stubborn as both my sister and me when we clash, things have a way of getting ugly really quickly. But it’s also taught me about my own impatience and made me realize how often I’m in the wrong (which, although humbling, certainly is a very bitter pill to force down).
There’ll be times my mother will force me to apologize when I see no reason to, and times when I must hold back my tears against some (presumably well-meant) criticism of my disposition or person. Being reminded that Nani’s old doesn’t really soothe my temper but it has taught me to be somewhat less of a brat.
For my siblings and me, who have never really had the benefit of family nearby, having Nani belong to our family has changed life irrevocably. Come February, when her flight home is scheduled, I know that none of us (including my father) will be returning to the airport dry-eyed. And I hope that the next time we all gather at the airport, it’s to welcome Nani back into our family and celebrate the continuity of all the changes her presence has brought to our home.