They don't live forever, do they? *sigh* About a year ago I sat down for an afternoon and wrote down things they remembered about their families. Who came here, where did they come from, who they married. It was very interesting, and I'm glad I took the time to do it.
My grandparents, on my mother's side, live near me, yet I don't see them much. Life gets in the way, and family disputes, too. Yesterday I went to see them, and I was struck by just how fragile they appear. My grandfather especially. He looms large in my mind, a big, strong military man with an easy smile and always a dollar to spare for ice cream. He and I comparing tattoos. He got his in Hawaii, by a rare (at the time)female artist. My grandmother... since she had a heart attack a few years ago she's lost a LOT of weight. She's so thin now, just as her own mother was. It was comforting to me just to sit and listen to her talk last night. That same voice that carried me through my childhood with her wisdom and love. She remained a constant for me. When my parents divorced, when my father died, she was there for me. When I was 15, she took me to Planned Parenthood herself because my mother couldn't face the fact that I'd become sexually active. When I went into labor with Daimean, SHE is the person I called.
I guess it comes down to this - I avoid them because I don't like to accept the fact that they're aging. If I keep them at arm's length, maybe I won't be so devastated when I lose them. Silly, I know. Time to make the effort to spend time with them now, while I still can.