Kids Don't Divorce Their Grandparents

Growing up in Los Angeles, a wonderful Saturday morning ritual would take place: My grandmothers, Rae and Mary, would walk to the beauty shop together. This was a fabulous place. Older Jewish women, sitting in rows, with curlers in their hair while others would get their hair teased in an effort to hold to an era that was running from them despite their efforts to hold on. Manicured nails in orange hues would dry in the hair sprayed air. For a little girl it was heaven on earth; every one "oohed" and "aahed" when I would visit and they would go into their purses and some treasure would come out behind the Freedent gum. "She's a shaina maideleh" (beautiful girl) they would say....

When they were well coiffed, they walked to my grandma Marys house and then drove to my house.  "The ladies" (that included me!) would go to Century City; a beautiful outdoor mall in Los Angeles. We would have lunch at Bob's Big Boy and I would get to tell them about my week. We window shopped and my mom and I would walk hand in hand.  Those Saturday mornings are memories I can touch in their vividness. 

My grandmothers loved each other very much, however they were very different women; one from Brooklyn the other from Minneapolis. 

One never learned to drive a car ("Who needs a car, sweetie, God gave me a good pair of feet"), and the other defined independence by the mere fact she had a license to drive. 

One carried her cash in her bra ("No one is ever gonna find it there, sweetheart") and one carried a purse so tightly I was convinced the blood would stop rushing to her clenched fingers.

One never owned a house of her own ("What?! I am from the Bronx, who needs a home?!"), the other a proud homeowner.

They loved each other. They loved me even more.  So when my parents divorced, my grandma Rae (my dads mom) said she did not divorce my grandmother, my mom or me, and nothing would change. The Saturday morning ritual continued, until my grandma Rae could walk no more due to lung cancer. (She never smoked a day in her life by the way).

My grandma Rae died 2 years before my mom. My grandma Mary will be 93 in December.  I don't have parents who would be grandparents to Elon and Eliana.  

My grandma Rae reminded me then as she reminds me now: that the  importance of grandparents in the lives of children has nothing to do with adult choices that lead to divorce. 

So when I asked the kids this morning, what they were doing that was special this weekend with their dad and grandparents, each said the same thing. "It is just special that we get to spend time with grandma and papa." 

That is how it should be. 

The fact that Brian and I are not right for each other has nothing to do with how right their grandparents are for them.  More importantly,  Alan and I create the safe space for them to love their grandparents  because we honor the children and that relationship. We take pride in rising to the occasion when so many people can't even fathom that.

My grandma Rae is kept alive in my ability to appreciate the love my children have for their grandparents. Her essence is in their spirits when they look forward to "just being with them." And the fact is, I would rather keep grandma Rae's memory alive that way, because I wont be caught dead reaching into my bra for a five dollar bill.