Grandparents

I had the best Grandparents a girl could wish for. I was loved by them, shaped by them and nurtured by them. They were arty, liberal and open minded. They believed in family, friends and a good time. The showered me with kisses. My Nana would rub my ears for hours because I loved it. For me my grandparents were my safe place, the place I felt so secure.

My Grandpa was my favorite person in the world up until the day he died. My Nana ran a very close second He could make a sandwich fit for a king, and often would late at night. He would drive anywhere to get you, take you for donut runs before bed. He was fond of slippers and PJ's at Walmart before it became the norm. There was always an apple pie in the house ready to be shared. They didn't have much but they had love.

As I drove home from dinner tonight I heard on the radio a multitude of songs from my childhood, everyone of them eliciting a memory of my grandparents. The Dirty Dancing theme song - memories of the album my Grandpa bought for me. The Bee Gee's - reminders of doing dishes after Wednesday night dinners. Phil Collins, K.D. Lang - it was like the DJ was playing the soundtrack to my childhood.

My husband and I are trying to have a baby. My worst kept secret ever. But my children won't have those grandparents. Not specifically my grandparents but they won't have grandparents even close. There will be no special days with Grandpa, no baking day's with Nana, no special regular weekday dinners with them. They won't know half of their grandparents and depending on how long the stork takes to deliver, the grandparent numbers could dwindle further. This is my heartbreaking realization and is further broken by the knowledge that the only people I want to talk to about this are gone.

And to top it off  all I want is an apple pie with ice cream.