Takes a bit of story telling, if you can stand it. My paternal grandpa died when I was 9, 1951. They lived on a little farm west of Chicago, in a comfortable little house my Dad & his 2 brothers had built for them. My Grandma, alone then, spent a winter with her daughter, my Aunt Sylvia, a fanatically-meticulous person who let no one sit on the living room furniture. Grandma spent next winter with us: she could prepare roast duck beyond compare! My Dad by that time was preparing for retirement on a small farm somewhere. Grandma asked my Dad to talk to an old friend in rural Michigan if she would sell a piece of land on which Grandma would build a garage-sized little home, my Dad being the owner, she would live there until......then he could retire there. 8 acres bought, livable building constructed, Grandma was used to such a simple life, and was happy. I spent several weeks for a few summers there with her, in my early teens, shooting in the woods, cutting firewood for her to use the following winter. She had electricity, an oil stove for heat, and the old Majestic wood-burning stove I remembered from their place in Illinois. But, no phone. Late in 1957, the neighbor, Ben Svoboda, called us on a Sunday morning; the window shades had not been raised, he banged on her door, no response. My Dad called his kid brother, my Uncle Jim, 10 years younger, and told him to pick us up. Uncle Jim lived close to us in suburban Chicago, and the 3 of us drove the 92 miles to the place in Michigan. Deciding we had to break in, they managed to open or break the bathroom window, and I elected (at 15) to climb through to open the door. I was scared as hell. Deathly quiet inside. I hate myself to this day for not having the guts as a young adult to look into her bedroom...........I opened the door, Dad & Uncle went into the bedroom, I didn't go in, never saw her in her deathbed. Out in the living area, my Dad, 56, tearfully remarked to the only brother he had ever really cared for who was 46, "Well, Jimmy, she's gone!" They embraced, an act NEVER seen between two people in our family regardless of gender, and my own heart stopped for a moment, I'm sure, as I felt it in my breathing. Frank
Very emotional memory for you Frank I'm sure... I'm fascinated to learn that no-one in your family ever showed any kind of physical love ...we had the same in our family... Has that continued through the recent generations?
Just a thought on your question Holly, it doesn't have to I have always been affectionate, the total opposite to my Mother Some people want the things they missed in their childhood
Oh I know it doesn't have to @Patsy Faye . I was just curious if it had , as my family were the least demonstrative family ever, ... and although it took me a while to learn as I got older not to be the same... lots of people who come from a family where physical demonstration was not the norm, don't know how to, or necessarily want to change it. All that said... the lack of outward demonstration of love doesn't always mean there was no love...many people are uncomfortable with outward physical expression and show their love in other ways. ..so perhaps your father and uncles did that Frank..I don't know...
At fifteen, I wouldn't have wanted to either. Or at thirty but, by then, I was a paramedic, and didn't always have such a choice. My family wasn't huggers either. I had no doubt of the love there was in the family; it just wasn't shown in hugs and kisses, and that sort of thing. I blame television for that. After watching everyone on television hugging at the drop of a hat, people began to think they were supposed to do that.
@Ken Anderson , I was thinking more of Frank's statement that his father and uncle hugged for the first and probably only time...( in their 50's and 40's) which I presume meant that Frank was never hugged by either his parents or grandparents...
@Frank Sanoica , I wouldn't have wanted to be the one to find her, either. Even now, having seen many dead people, I wouldn't want to go into a room alone to be the first one to see a corpse. Especially someone that I loved.
That's not chicken, Frank, that's not understanding all we know about something, quite common among young men of that age. My family never showed any emotion, either. I don't remember my dad or mother ever hugging me and only once maybe each other. When I went off to war in early 1953, my dad said be careful and my mother shook my hand and said take care of your self, but I was alreaady growed up; I was seventeen. But, Frank, I enjoyed your telling some of your story. You cut to what's important; I tend to ramble.
@Bill Boggs But don't be misled into thinking I cannot be a masterful bull-sh!!tter when such would serve a purpose! Frank