I recently went to visit my 93-year-old grandmother for a morning catch-up. Few places take me back to childhood like her home. The summers spent with my grandfather in his garden, the hours logged at the table playing Euchre, waking up there Christmas morning with a wood-burning fire, Christmas music on the stereo, and presents under the tree are all deeply etched in my memory. That home is so central to my childhood memories, and I cherish each one. Of course, as a child, I couldn’t fully grasp the fullness of my grandmother; I was just grateful to be on the receiving end of her love. However, as I’ve gotten older, I see her as a true inspiration, someone I adore, admire, and will spend the rest of my days trying to emulate.
As we discussed motherhood, in the 60s and 70s, when she was actively parenting my dad and uncle, she shared stories of the boys wandering the neighborhood with friends, sometimes for hours at a time, but always eventually finding their way back home. She spoke of Friday nights when she loaded the boys up with all their friends while my grandfather worked and took them to the drive-in, car filled with a gaggle of boys and homemade popcorn. She shared her belief in taking the boys to church, so they would always have the assurance that God loved them. She described a simple, beautiful life, rich in love and relationships.
When I asked my Grandma Betty what surprised her about motherhood, she told me how loyal her boys were to the family. She later said, “When you love your children so much, I think they understand that.” Her boys were deeply loved; they knew it, and it resulted in a close-knit family bond. She also mentioned being surprised by how much “they didn’t like me in the teenage years.” She went on to describe the blackboard they kept in their home, where the boys had full freedom to write whatever they were feeling because they could always erase it. “You could put up there I hate you today because you could later erase it.” I found this to be a pretty revolutionary idea for the time, when feelings weren’t openly discussed as much as they are today. My grandma also described moments of disappointment as a parent, where the boys made choices she wished they hadn’t. When asked how she dealt with the disappointment, she shared that she was often fairly passive and would discipline if necessary, but figured they would “likely learn their own lesson without preaching from their mom.” It’s clear there was a home where kids were free to make mistakes, understanding they would always be met with unconditional love.
We briefly touched on friendships, and my grandma shared about the rich relationships she forged through Bridge Club, where the women would laugh and exchange stories about their kids. She laughed as she shared a story about a friend who said, “Betty, he doesn’t need to know everything,” when my grandma said she wanted to buy something she wasn’t sure my grandfather would approve of. I love imagining this group of women gathering midday to play cards, share laughs, and encourage one another. Despite many of her friends passing away, my grandma still has several close friends with whom she gathers and keeps in touch with regularly. “Friends are important to me,” she said, and this is incredibly evident in her life.
I asked her if she had any motherhood role models, and she shared countless stories of her own mother taking great care of her, attending to her needs, but also giving her space to make her own mistakes. “She never criticized us for the choices we made in boyfriends. I’m sure she would have liked to sometimes, but our house was always open. People liked to come to our house because it was always welcoming and nonjudgmental.” She shared about watching her mom grieve “the love of her life” when my great-grandfather passed away suddenly, followed by her daughter (my grandma’s sister) a couple of years later, who died at 19 from an illness. My grandma shared about how much she resented God for allowing her sister to die just two years after her father, and how she wished she’d been nicer. The passing of her father and her sister strengthened the bond between my grandma and great-grandmother, and they remained very close until my great-grandmother died.
When asked what she would say to encourage moms today, she talked about how different the women of today are: “piloting airplanes across continents and becoming doctors who discover new treatments for old diseases.” She said, “But if you stay home, be proud of that. Remember that all of these working people making discoveries and changing the world had a mother.” She shared about the importance of loving your children unconditionally and also taking care of yourself. “Don’t be a helicopter mom, but don’t ever stay too far away from them.” She wrapped up her response by encouraging moms to listen to their children truly and shared a powerful story: she said to my uncle, “Do you know how hard your teenage years were on us?” To which my uncle replied, “What do you think they were like for me?” “What a powerful lesson that was,” she quietly reflected.
While I’m biased, this conversation had nuggets I will carry with me for months. What struck me most was my grandmother’s ability to see life with such nuance. She is still thinking critically, open to new ideas, and surrounding herself with people who believe differently from her. She is one of the most curious people I’ve ever met, and I think about her often and ask myself, “How would Grandma Betty respond?” when I encounter someone who sees the world differently than I do. Her love for family, her devotion to her friends, the way she engages others, and her commitment to community service are just a few of the qualities that make up her legacy, one I’m proud and honored to share with my own kids. We’re beyond lucky to call her ours.
