Granddaughter’s bond deeper than blood

I'm just going to put this here. From a story I wrote for the HERALD in 2011

Granddaughter’s bond deeper than blood

The only grandma I have ever known is the woman who raised my dad since he was 5 years old, my stepgrandma Lula.  I am her namesake, Nancy Lula.  She is my real grandma in every sense of the word. She was a real mom to my dad and grieved as only a mother can grieve when he died.  She is strong in body and character. Hers is a voice I hear in my head, always cheerful and caring.  Along with raising my dad as her own, she helped run the cattle ranch, rode horses and worked side by side with the men on branding days.  She made fried potatoes for breakfast, was the signer of birthday cards and the giver of gifts to all of her grandchildren. 

Although I love Grandma Lula as my one and only Grandma, I always wondered what my biological grandma, Leola was like. I have no memories of her, but have been told many times throughout my life that I look like her. I was intrigued by the idea that I might discover some insight into myself through learning about the life of this woman who looked so much like me.

All I knew was that she and my Grandpa Bush divorced in 1935 and he married Grandma Lula.  Grandma Leola married 2 more times during her lifetime and circumstances kept her from playing a large part in my dad's life. My mom said that the only times she saw me was when she would show up late at night, unexpectedly.  Not wanting to wake us, my parents would let her look at us as we slept. She was an alcoholic and died under mysterious circumstances by drowning in a bathtub when I was a toddler. Not exactly the typical picture of a grandmother I convinced myself that there had to be more to her than the unfortunate things I had been told - did she have hobbies? What of proms, favorite songs and best friends? I decided to find out and write a story about her. 

My Aunt Nadene was the one who graciously answered my many questions, even though the task of remembering her mother was painful for her. I gathered a few interesting facts, such as: she once sewed a wedding dress out of parachute silk, she liked the color red so much that she painted her kitchen ceiling red, she liked horses and was a hard worker. She had a good personality and her friends appreciated her sense of humor. Sadly, though, by her children, Grandma Leola was mostly remembered for her drinking and the effects that it had on them.

Aunt Nadene said that while I do resemble my grandma in appearance -- that is where the similarities end.  She told me to remember that "you are you, and a wonderful you." I was disappointed that there wasn't something more - disappointed that I didn't find some common ground besides my face to link me to my dad's real mom. With nothing to help me write the story I had planned, I started thinking about what makes someone a real mother or grandmother. I know that I too have strength and have passed that strength on to my children.  This is Grandma Lula's legacy, whereas Grandma Leola's legacy is only in our faces.

Although I didn't find what I hoped I would about Grandma Leola, the experience helped me to finally realize that it's not about what wasn't, but rather, about what is and always has been.

What I was seeking from the past is something I already have with Grandma Lula. I remember sitting on her lap as a child, arriving at her ranch early on Sunday mornings to the smell of breakfast and the sound of the grown up's voices preparing for the day.  It was idyllic – playing in the woods, being led around the ranch on a horse or taking naps on Grandma's bed.  The ties that bind are in the memories, not the blood – they are in the love that is nurtured through the years. They are in shared experiences. What is important isn't anything as significant as sharing a great talent or even a face – in the end I found the affinity I was looking for in the simplest thing.

 Grandma Lula and I both love cats.