I’m one of those adults who has the privilege of still having living grandparents. Three to be exact, all of whom are in their nineties. I hold one very near and dear to my heart and we’ve shared a special relationship for thirty three years. My daughter now has the fortune of knowing her great grandma, and to see the two interact brings me warmth and great happiness. I feel like a bridge between historic monuments I want others to know and visit.
My grandmother, like many of that era, lived a simple life. To hold her hand and gaze at her, I am again seven years old, sitting across from her at the kitchen table, holding a hand of cards much too big for my small hands. She is patient with me as I straighten out the crooked cards, putting several down on my knee to manage all ten. She encourages me. She engages with me and I feel like the only child on the planet.
Scientists tell us that very young children from infancy to age three have what is referred to as an “implicit memory”. That is, the ability to remember not in the concrete sense, but in the emotive sense, people and memories that had an impact on us as children. Studies are also showing that the fetus in-utero is in tune with their mother’s emotional state during pregnancy. It is why smells and songs can often trigger a strong reaction in us as adults, even if we can’t recall the specifics of when they first originated. Attachment theorists, who research the parent/child bond from infancy throughout the life cycle, emphasize the importance of bonding and connection from the word go, in order to facilitate a healthy upbringing and implicit memories are all a part of this.
I know this to be true with my grandmother. The touch of her skin, the smell of the crook of her neck, her smiling eyes. I remember. She is love.
My grandmother will be ninety five years old this summer. Her “simple” life has created a lasting legacy of children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. I celebrate her. Who do you celebrate?
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