Grandparents: The Bridge to our Past

"Do not cast me off in the time of old age;

do not forsake me when my strength is spent."

Psalm 71:9

Not much is mentioned in the Bible about Jesus' grandparents, but we know that at least on Mary's side, he had a set of grandparents, Joachim and Anne. We have to use our imagination to decide whether they were a big part of Jesus' life or not. I like to think that they were. After all, Mary was their only child (according to the Protoevangelium of James), and Jewish families were very close, so I would think that they probably lived near Joseph and Mary and helped to raise Jesus.

I was very blessed in this department. All four of my grandparents lived well into their 80s. I was already married and a mother myself, when I lost my first grandparent, abuelo Venancio. As far back as I can remember, my grandparents were a huge part of my life. My maternal grandparents lived with us until they passed away, and I also got to spend plenty of time with my paternal grandparents. That is, until I left Cuba and they stayed behind.

Growing up in Cuba, where everything was rationed, must have been difficult, but yet, I didn't notice it. Honestly, I don't remember lacking anything (except maybe cream cheese which I loved and we only got once a year). I remember that "Los Tres Reyes Magos" (the Three Wise Men) that visited my home every January 6th, were quite generous. I recall waking up to lots of toys. Later in life, I found out that my grandparents and parents had to scramble to get me those toys. My abuela Elisa would exchange fabrics for toys. My mother would sleep outside the store overnight so she could get me the doll that would hopefully be for sale the following morning as promised. They would barter and swap services and possessions, just to make sure that I would have the kind of Christmas that they once enjoyed in Cuba.

When I left Cuba, all four of my grandparents remained there. My maternal grandparents joined us two years later. That two year separation was pretty tough for me. My parents were struggling to make ends meet in a new country, so there was no time to spoil me the way my grandparents did back in Cuba. The nuns in the school didn't blend my food into a purée the way my abuela used to do. I had to learn to eat everything. And by everything I mean from "potajes" (stew) to sardines. While all the kids would eat in 30 minutes and play for 90, I would spend the entire two hours staring at my food. I was not allowed to play until I cleaned my plate. It took me a year to train my tastebuds to all these new things that I had never tried before, even though I was already eight years old by this time. However, sardines and I never saw eye to eye. The children that stayed in school to eat, received a "merienda" (snack) in the afternoon. The girls in my classroom would make bets among themselves to see who would get my "merienda" because I never ate it. The "merienda" consisted of either bread and cheese, bread and a bar of chocolate, bread with Nutella, bread with sardines... This last one, nobody wanted it, so I would hide it in the pocket of my coat. One time I took it home on a Friday, my mom forgot to check my pockets, and you can only imagine the smell on Monday morning. Eventually, the nun caught me giving away my "merienda." She punished me by making me stand in the middle of the central patio until I finished the entire "merienda." It didn't matter if it was raining, snowing or freezing cold. Oh, how I missed my abuela Elisa on those days.

Eventually I grew up, learned to eat (even though I still dislike sardines) and my grandparents reunited with us. And they continued to spoil me because that's how they showed how much they loved me. My abuela loved to tell me stories about her family and her life as a young girl in Spain and a young woman in Cuba. I didn't realize it then, but those stories were the bridge to my past. I now recall them with nostalgia. I would give anything to have the opportunity to talk to my grandparents once again. Oh how I wish that I had paid more attention to all those stories. If I had another chance, I would have written everything down. But I know that one day, I will meet them again in heaven and they will recount all those stories from my childhood.

If you have the blessing of still having your grandparents alive, spend time with them, ask them questions and truly listen to their answers. Write down their stories so one day, you can share them with your own children. And thank God every day for the blessing of having this bridge to your past. Love them, hug them and cherish them. That is the best gift you can give them.

St. Joachim and St. Anne, pray for us.