Any part of my life can’t be complete without talking about the hardships that my grandparents went through to raise my parents and to help raise me and my sisters. Inevitably, I became much closer with them than my own parents and sisters.
My late grandfather grew up without a father and he became the epitome of support for the entire family. He lived, worked and struggled during the time when India was still under British rule. And my god! His control over English grammar was immaculate and much better than that of most Brits today.
My late grandmother was the complete opposite. She didn’t understand a letter in English, but she had so many stories to share about the town she came from (especially ghost stories to scare us away)! When my grandmother died, one of her sons, who lived next door, did not even make it to her funeral. What a shame!
Just because it’s Indian tradition to live with and take care of your parents doesn’t mean everyone does it.
There are many scumbags out there too, who barely care about their own parents.
Today I see my grandparents in every old couple walking hand in hand, shopping, or sitting on a Central Park bench and sunbathing!
Every year, I go to Saint Ann’s home in Jersey City to meet all the oldie-goldie folks just to remind them how young and lovely they are!