Tell me about your grandparents

[róisín_dubh]

25. My grandparents...damn I miss them

My paternal grandfather I never met. He was a sergeant in the army, born of Irish immigrant parents in the Bronx. He once went out bowling with his mates and overindulged a bit...ending up sleeping on the train to the end of the line. He died in 1971 of a massive heart attack. He was only 48. His youngest sister, a Franciscan nun who was a nurse, passed away this past Saturday at age 93.

My paternal grandmother was one of a kind. She too was born of Irish immigrant parents, and raised in the Bronx. She got a degree in nursing and and then a Masters degree in nursing as well, and was a school nurse for many years. She and my granddad moved to New Jersey in 1965, and I grew up in the house they bought. My parents had the garage converted to an apartment for her, and I got to grow up with her caring for me. She had the patience of a saint: my earliest memories are of sitting on her kitchen floor with every pot, pan, and spice jar "cooking" with her. She would let me comb her hair while we watched Kojak or Golden Girls. We went to mass every Sunday and then she took me for donuts or breakfast. She was one of a very proud neighbourhood of Irish Republicans; she'd probably be mortified I'm living in England I was devastated when she moved after my parents separated (even though she only moved 2 miles away). She supported me in everything I did. She believed in the separation of Church and State, despite being a super devout Catholic. She was always there for her kids and grandkids. I miss her every day.

My mom's parents were born of Italian immigrants. My grandpa played baseball and had a tryout with the Yankees...and then blew out his knee in the Navy during WWII. He worked hard his whole life, coming from pretty much nothing at all, and raised 5 kids and got to travel around the world. He was one of my biggest supporters. I was devastated when he died in 2012.z
Now my maternal grandma was a force of nature. Her father survived the Messina earthquake in 1907 that killed his parents and 6 siblings. So he migrated to the US, became friends with Al Capone, but stayed in New York where he met my grand-grandma. In the '20s, they ran a speakeasy in NYC and in Philly, which was pretty rad. Anyway, my grandma was their middle child. She was a diminutive lady with a sharp with and sharp tongue. She didn't take shit from anyone. When I was a kid, we'd have "cooking camp" so my parents could get away from my sisters and I. I learned to make so many things from scratch. She got Lewi-Body dementia. That was horrendous and I am sad to think of how she suffered mentally in her final years.