Write a Letter to my Grandparents once a month

My grandma died a few months ago. I know she loved recieving letters from me, but in the last few months of her life I only sent a few get-well-cards. Mainly because I am unemployed and feel really bad about it – I didn’t feel I had anything to write about (still don’t). But as much as she loved the cards I made, I feel bad about not sending any letters. I should have sent letters. But I didn’t. And there is nothing I can do about that now :(
However, grandpa is still really well and while I know grandma was the big letter-fan, I am sure he appriciated them as well (he doesn’t talk about his feelings much). So I will send him a little package with a letter and a small present. I still haven’t got much to write, but I am sure I can come up with something, anything.

I make sure I send letters, birthday/christmas/easter cards as well as little random cards regularly to my grandparents. They love it. But I am thinking I might put together a letter to my parents too.

We live in different countries after all and I haven’t seen them since early September. We talk on the phone pretty often, and email, and they send me letters every now and then. But I haven’t sent them a letter in ages, maybe it’s time I did. I will see them in a month or so, but I’m sure they’d love a letter anyway.

My grandfather, in his 80th birthday speech, fondly recollected that over the last few years one of the greatest delights of his life had been the morning discovery of an express post envelope in the mail. The yellow and red envelope characteristically bore the signature of my name and it was with sheer rapture he reflected, that he opened the contents therein to find an informative and humor-provoking letter replete with the misadventures of Lucy, the conquests of mountain adventures, the new heights of my career development and numerous other tales and observations that painted a colorful picture of the full and vivacious life of his granddaughter, ‘She’s full of surprises this one’ he said with a thoughtful smile.

There’s something about a letter that’s so intimate and engaging… we transpose our thoughts, our reflections and other random observations of life that often go unnoticed or are forgotten without further contemplation. They hold in their detail not only the noticeable transitions of life that will be remembered for years to come… but the smaller moments. The hilarities that confront us daily, the absurdities that make us laugh, the philosophical questions that plague us for a season until we find in ourselves or in the world at large an answer to our quest, they record the people who may in latter years have passed out of our lives forever and they paint a picture of how we feel… the articulation of confidence, the admission of insecurities and vulnerabilities, the voicing of bold aspirations or timid hopes; all of which, when the season has passed, fade into the realm of forgetfulness.

In writing to my grandparents, I never want to succumb to writing bland dissertations or tedious lackluster statements but rather to interpret life in such a way as to extend the vitality and experience of my journey with them. To combine the arts of photography and writing in harmonious expression and together to paint a picture of what my life is like… to involve them in it, to allow them to see my world as I see it. In storybook fashion my novellas are bound with glossy photos adorning each page, italic captions offering witty interpretations and lengthy compositions of life observations, recollections and musings. The latest September edition takes a prideful place on my grandparents lounge room coffee table where, I am told, it prevails itself upon every unsuspecting visitor who innocently drops in for a coffee.

This goal has led to such an exciting turn in my life.

My grandmother who lives 1.5 hrs away called me out of the blue (she’s called me maybe twice before in my life, and that was for birthdays) and we are setting up a lunch date this fall.

My grandmother who lives in a different state is currently suffering from advanced stages of Alzheimer’s, but every time she speaks to my mother, she tells her how much she enjoyes her notes from me. She just forgets who I am. But the notes make her smile, and that is, after all, the goal. If I can make her day a little brighter, then I have succeeded.

It’s amazing that such a small thing can make such a difference.

Sent them a postcard the other day. Grandma told me recently how happy my cards and letters make her and granddad, so I just have to keep it up :)

Just like South Africa has ‘The Big Five’, so too has my grandmother… the big five casseroles that she has made for the last forty years. A handful of recipes which have been passed down from generation to generation and have even inspired my mother on the rare occasion to deviate from modern cuisine. Of these five, I had two favourite recipes that I especially liked, neither of which I have been able to replicate in quite the same way. One was boiled chicken stewed in a thick apricot sauce and the other was a casserole of sausages and gravy, mixed with an onion and tomato base and stewed in an old white crockery dish with a faint blue crest on one side. Desserts could be classified into a less generalised category – the big 3: Frozen Chocolate Bavarian, Hot Apple pie or Rhubarb and Ice cream.

Whenever we were going to my grandparent’s house for dinner, my brother and I would anticipate which of the ‘big five’ we would be having for tea. We would place our bets accordingly as we were driving up the driveway and our guesses would be confirmed the moment we walked through the front door and the smells wafted down the hallway.

I always remember it being my responsibility to set the cups on the table. My parents and grandparents always had the gold rimmed crystal glasses, a limited edition set bearing a gold sketched outline of the old country school my mother attended, and my brother and I fought over which colour plastic cup we wanted… blue always being in popular demand.

At some point my brother and I graduated from the plastic cups. I remember visiting my grandparents a few years ago and instinctively going to the cupboard to reach for the very same blue plastic cup that I had waged my life over ten years before. I was immediately scolded by my doting grandmother who insisted instead that I have one of the ‘good glasses’ from the glass dining cabinet. Childhood ebbed away in that moment but the memories will live on forever. Like all things of life, once we move forward we can never go back, yet the memories can forever be just as rich and impressionable if we take a few moments to reflect and remember.

Stamped two more envelopes today – I need to stop by the blue box after work and put them in the mail.

I hope they make my Grandmas smile.

I am writing them often, both for holidays and for no reason, enough to count as once a month I think (even if I don’t keep exact track) and I have done so for a long enough time to mark this as done. But of course, I will keep doing it…I know how much they appriciate it. And sometimes they write me back too (even if it takes grandma quite a while to muster up the energy), and I love that. Their letters and cards are very sweet.

I sent them a really cute card for easter…I’m sure they’ll love it :)

Happy Easter everyone!

Got a letter from Grandad thanking me soo much for my letters and cards…success! It’s nice to know my letters make them happy…it only takes a few minutes to write, but it’s appearantly very appriciated :D I’ll definitely keep this up.