Growing up, I didn’t have grandparents. My mom’s dad died when she was four and my mom’s mom died when I was four. My dad’s dad lived to be ninety-six but, due to my dad’s escape from Bulgaria after WW2, my father was deemed an enemy of the state and feared returning to his homeland. Each of their grandparents died early on in my parents’ lives so they didn’t have grandparents either. We all grew up grandparent-less.
When we were kids, my dad and mom worked hard, both responsible for duties that were separate and no less equal. But, when my dad retired he could finally do the things he loved like garden, golf and build things. My mom could crochet to her heart’s content, see her girlfriends, and maybe not have to cook as much as she had all her life.
Then, lo and behold, my husband and I had kids. And those kids were lucky enough to have grandparents..
