The ring is so small it doesn’t even fit on my pinkie finger anymore. Grandma must have given this to me when I was only an infant. I must have worn this when I was a very little girl before I could even remember anything.
It has always been my pride and joy to own this ring, and now I wear this on a chain around my neck. I love this ring so much I don’t think I will ever want to part with it. It is of 18 karats yellow gold, set with one tiny round jade and one tiny round pearl. There are no diamonds on this ring - an odd combination I must say - and yet, whenever I look at this ring, its contrast between the green jade stone and the white pearl oddly complement each other, giving the tiny ring a brightly lit glow, - much like the light of Grandma’s love that shines in my heart.
I can always remember Grandma. Although she went to heaven early in my life when I was only 11, yet I still can remember her as though it was only yesterday. A few days before she went to heaven she called me into her room. She gave me some cookies and watched me as I ate heartily. Then, she let out a great big sigh, and said to me, "I don’t know who will be giving you cookies when I’m gone!”
I did not say anything in reply because I was so young then, and I had not suspected anything awful was about to happen. A few days later Grandma fell gravely ill and had to be admitted to the hospital. She had incurable breast cancer and died in the hospital. When I was told the news that Grandma was gone I was totally heartbroken, because of all the siblings I considered myself most well-liked by Grandma. (That’s beside my brother who was the firstborn son of my dad, who was also the firstborn son of my grandparents. My brother was the apple of everyone’s eyes) I’m assuming that in Grandma’s heart she may have wanted to make up for the first 6 years of my life that I had spent away from her. I had spent the first 6 years of my life with my mom’s parents. (Grandparents from my mom’s side). I only came back to my dad's family after my mom's father died. I was 6-1/2 when I returned.
My whole world was crumbling down when I lost Grandma. To me, that was a sudden event. I remember Grandma would always ask me to massage her aching bones. She would pay me 10 cents for every 100 strokes. My tiny fists would always hit on her sore and aching bones much slower than I would count. What a little cheater I was!... But somehow Grandma didn’t seem to mind. Perhaps she just needed an excuse to give me some money so I could go down to that little variety store, around the street corner, to buy myself some candies. If only...if only...I could go back in time...I would give freely to Grandma all the massage she needs for her aching bones.
I remember Grandpa too. He was always telling us stories. He had stories that seemed to grow from within him, and he would tell them like it was his natural inborn talents. Everyday he would have a brand new story to tell us. We lived in a 4 story-25-room-house, and whenever it was time for Grandpa to tell us a story, Grandma would always stand in front of their room and hollered out to us, “Come on children! (Or sometimes she would just pick one of our names to call out to us all) It’s storytime! Grandpa’s going to tell us a story now!” And no matter where we were at, or what we were doing, we would always run quickly over to our grandparents’ room. There would be 4 of us (my brothers and me, but not my sister, as she was older than all of us and had other interest) and my cousins (my aunt's 6 boys) would all be trooping into our grandparents’ room; but the 4 of us would always be extra special, and would always be the ones to snuggle into our grandparents’ bed, while our 6 cousins would just be sitting around on the chairs or on the floor. The 4 of us would cover our tiny selves underneath the large blanket while listening to Grandpa’s stories, and every once in a while we would start giggling for no apparent reasons. I don’t know which was more entertaining: Tucking ourselves beneath the large blanket; or listening to Grandpa telling us the stories. Many of those stories I cannot even remember now for I was too young to pay attention, but being there underneath the blanket seemed so much fun at the time!
Grandpa was also very talented in the medical field! He was the medicine man of the family. He brewed his own herbal medicines. He had homemade remedies for almost everything:
Headaches, Fevers, Flu, Cuts, Coughs, Cold, Stomach aches, Fractured-bones... and... You name the illness.... he would find the remedy for it. The medications were not only just for healing humans, the medications were to heal pets as well. I remember one time our male cat had a fight with some other neighbourhood cats outside our home, he came home with a great big hollow wound to his back, and I was scared half to death at the sight of that large gaping hole. - A large chunk of his flesh had been torn off!! Grandpa applied some of his self-invented ointment on the wound. That ointment must have some anti-biotic remedies in it, for it healed the wounds, and the flesh grew back within a few days. We didn’t even need to take our cat to the vet! After some time our cat had grown back to be as healthy as ever!!
The best thing about Grandpa was that he was a very loyal family man. He was loyal to my Grandma, and to his job as well. He never did retire and would go out to work even when he was walking with a cane. He only stopped working after he had a stroke. Though Grandma was a tiny little lady she somehow had held the large family together. It was fun in those days. I miss my grandparents so much! Grandma passed away when I was 11, and Grandpa...perhaps two years after.
Great recollection of past memories. One can't forget the sweet movements with grand parents. As a grand father, now I am experiencing the same happiness with my grand children WOH.. I have become grand father now.
A great sharing of fond memories, Sandie. Because my parents emigrated from France to Canada before I was born, I never met any of my grandparents. Love and best wishes,
How wonderful a story! I never knew a grandparent. My father's parents were dead when I was born and the only living grandparent alive was my Mumi in Finland, whom I "met" when I was ten years old on a three month vacation there with my mother. I've been back to Finland and my cousins tell me stories about her. She was stern but loving. You were blessed!
Childhood memories are the best. I was lucky to have all four of my grandparents until I was in my 20s. I even remember two great grandparents until I was about 15. Their source of much wisdom, and probably the source of your storytelling.
Ron
Reviewed by May Yu
5/30/2014
Sandie,
You are like your grandfather, have good talents for storytelling. I enjoyed this.
Wonderful memories in this story. It was a pleasure to read. My grandfather was a poet. He taught me to write at a very early age. My grandmother still lives and she is 97.
Once again I loved this. Thank you for sharing.
This book is a collection of short stories that depict events in Author's life while she lived in Romania, then in Greece, and last in America. It's a beautiful and very sincere account of a young woman's life and comming to age.
