I’ve been thinking about my grandmother. She was a storyteller. I listened to her for hours telling me stories of her life.
She talked about her adult life, her childhood she rarely spoke about. I do remember asking her one time if she could would she relive her childhood? She told me no, that her childhood was horrible.
My grandmother was the oldest of four children. She worked very hard and had to spend a great deal of time raising her brothers and sister. I think my great-grandparents were abusive from the way she spoke. She was born in 1912, in Kentucky. Granny grew up not having anything. My grandmother, her name is Velma, was born on Valentine’s Day. She started chewing tobacco when she was 8 years old. Granny said that it kept her from feeling so hungry when she had to go out to work from sun up until sun down stripping tobacco. My grandmother had a third grade education. She was very intelligent though and she did not let that education hold her back. She taught herself how to read well and how to do everything else she needed to know to get her through life.
Granny had two sets of children, four was with her first husband and four with the latter. Her first husband passed during the Great Depression. My granny was married off at 14. My family had this thing about arranging marriages. Granny was forced to marry someone 30 years older than her. Her parents did it for money. They sold her. My mom’s first marriage was arranged as well. My parent’s tried that with me. I moved out at 16. I wasn’t having it. I lived in the woods, got two jobs and then an apartment. And I finished school too.
Granny could not afford to feed those children or afford them housing. She was forced to give up her children to an orphanage so they could have food, clothes and shelter. I figure that must have been a terrible heart-wrenching sacrifice for her to have to make. But when you love your children, sometimes you have to make decisions that you don’t want to make. The decision hurt her children as well, but they understood it was necessary for their well-being.
Her youngest child was adopted very quickly. His name was George. He was only a baby. Two of her other children were fostered out to people who wanted children just to work for them in exchange for receiving the basics and education until they reached the age to attend high school. My aunt was the eldest, she lived out her childhood in the orphanage. Granny got to see my aunt Mary, but not the rest of her children. Through the connection she was able to keep with her eldest child Mary, my grandma was able to find her other two children which were not adopted.
The child, George having been an infant was much harder to find. I remember that. I was about 8. When he was finally located, my grand mother gathered up her other 7 children, grandchildren and great grandchild and we all went together to Texas to meet George. That was the only time I met him. I haven’t forgot that. Everyone was happy, crying, laughing and hugging. It was a beautiful moment! My grandmother stayed in contact with George the rest of her life. He did not have the bond with her that he did with his adopted mother, but my grandmother was understanding and she accepted it for what it was. George was understanding that she only gave him up because she could not take care of him.
Time went by and my grandmother met and married my grandfather. That was in 1948. My grandfather was born in 1900, which made him 48 and Granny was 36. Both of them were rather old to have started a family. Grandfather passed on from cancer in 1960. I never met him. My mother was 13 when he passed on. His death was life changing for her. She was a Daddy’s girl. To her, she lost everything. When Grandfather was called home to the Lord, my grandmother was left to raise four more children on her own. The Lord blessed her this time and helped her find a way.
Most of my grandmother’s work was waitressing and cooking. She loved to cook and Granny was the most amazing cook I have ever known in my life! My granny showed her love to people through the meals she would make. She always said, “If you love ’em, feed ’em.” That kinda rubbed off on me. I love to make sure people eat. She used to tell me she would cook and waitress for a nickel an hour. Could you imagine supporting four kids, yourself and paying bills on that? They had no government assistance back then to assist with groceries and medical needs, there was no HUD. You were on your own.
Time passed and all my grandmother’s children grew up. She lost my uncle. He was killed by a man who he took into his home to help him get on his feet. My grandmother was not notified by the police. She found out about his death by watching the news. She knew it was him because she recognized his apartment. My uncle owned two house, but also rented an apartment in Indianapolis because that is where he did most his business. My grandmother did not just suffer the loss of her child, but when he died, it came out publicly that he was gay. She had to watch on the news the landlord outing him to the world and the landlord made my uncle sound terrible. He stated on tv, and I remember watching it, he told the reporters that my uncle drug men in and out of his apartment all the time. My uncle ran his business from that apartment and he had been in a committed relationship with the same man for 15 years. My uncle’s partner was also killed. Could you imagine finding out about your child being murdered on tv and at the same time having someone trashing your child to the world? I will never forget that.
My grandmother called the house and spoke to my brother. My mother and I were shopping. He called the Jay C Store. (For the younger generation, this was back before cell phones.) My brother told mom what happened and we left our groceries and rushed straight over to her house. My grandmother was sitting in her rocker in front of her television rocking, with her legs crossed as she always positioned yourself. Her dinner was on the stove burning. I had never seen my Granny cry before. She was sobbing, wiping her tears and her nose on the dish towel she held in her hands. I remember feeling so helpless. I didn’t know how to comfort her.
That memory is engraved into my mind. Even to this day, I can see that moment as clearly as if it happened yesterday.
My grandmother cried everyday for years. I thought I would never see her stop crying. As time went on, she accepted the situation, but she never got over it. I don’t think anyone ever gets over the death of their child, they just learn to accept it.
Granny was 72 when my uncle passed on. Shortly afterward, she had the first of four strokes. The Lord took her home at 96.
Granny saw a lot, she did a lot and went through a lot. Granny stayed strong until the very end. I said Granny was a storyteller, but she didn’t just tell stories, Granny lived those stories.
Those stories are much more than stories. They are a life lived to inspire endurance and perseverance to teach others that no matter how hard your life gets, God will help you find a way.
I was so blessed to have her for so many years. Granny inspired me with many of her stories. She passed on to me the love of storytelling and her desire to show people love through the meals she made. I was so blessed to have her.