I have been asked to be a regular columnist for GRAND Magazine that is celebrating its 11th birthday today. Please check out this lively informative magazine and log-in for your free subscription to this first issue; and by all means subscribe. I’m honored to be on their team. We are looking for Invisible Grandparents of all types (distance, custody issues, alienation or estrangement from adult children) to submit their stories on my new moderated website: www.leavealegacyoflovenow.com. Puh-lease do! No names or locations will be published just themes for support and practical advice.
Truly invisiblegrandma Betty … your story is heartbreaking but you are doing all you can and exercising good judgment about what not to do. “Each day I place you in God’s hands but you are always in my heart.” Sometimes all we can do is pray and think of all the possible positive outcomes while keeping our selves healthy and busy which it sounds like you are. BLESSINGS on your journey, PAT
Betty your hope, persistence and love is inspiring. I would love you to submit this to the GRAND Magazine website: http://www.leavealegacyoflovenow.com … but you have to do it yourself and then it will go up there. Please check events at both websites I have some on-line workshops for invisible/estranged/alienated grandparents that I would like to offer to you. Free. You are modeling wonderful invisible grandparenting in your heartbreaking but hope-filled story. Thank you so much. pat@invisiblegrandparent.com
Dearest Kayleigh,
You are my first grandchild. Born to my oldest son and your mother. Because of problems between your parents and I don’t get along however I have always loved you. I love your father very much but he has some serious problems that keep us apart. He is a good man but one that has problems making the right choices. I think he is the reason your mother may be afraid to let me in your life.
One night your father came and told me I had a granddaughter, named Kayla and gave me one photo. I cried that I was not there when you were born. I wanted to be; I had bought many presents for you in the hopes that I would be included.
When you were about three months old, at three o’clock in the morning, your father called me. Because of his problems your father was a danger to me so I did the hardest thing in my life and the one I regret daily. I said no to picking my son and you up. I am so sorry that I did not risk coming for you that night. I now wish that I would have come and taken you and dropped Brian off at the local men’s shelter… maybe I would still be in your life had I done that.
I wanted to contact your mother but did not know her last name? Rumor had it she had once again moved west.
About the same time you were born, so was a baby girl at the church I attend. Each Sunday as I watch this baby grow and grow I grieve thinking of you. I would wonder is Kayla doing that? Are you being taken care of? Are you happy? Do you know how much you are loved? I have prayed ten thousand prayers and cried rivers of tears for you. I never knew you but you are a part of me and my son that I will miss until we meet again.
Finally word came that you and your mother were living in our town. I let everyone in the “downtown” circle know that all I wanted was to be a grandma to you. Nothing! No word and no way for me to locate you.
Each year on your birthday I bake a cake and put one candle on it. I blow the candle out with the wish that not one more year will pass with out us knowing each other.
Within a year my second granddaughter was born. Yes, you have a half sister named Asheleigh. Due to her parents abuse and addictions I now have full custody of Asheleigh. Asheleigh knows about you. Asheleigh misses you and wants to meet her sister too. Asheleigh now helps blow out your birthday “wish” candle too!
In the fall of 1999, I located your mother’s address. I went to see the landlady who told me she was a good mom to you. I explained that I just wanted the chance to be what I am your grandmother. She agreed to pass a letter onto your mother for me. I spilled my guts out in that letter begging to please me allow to know you. I never got a phone call, nothing! I wrote again in six months after praying hard…. still nothing.
In August 2000 I was in Oshawa in a park with Asheleigh. By the grace of God, I saw your mother walk pass me with some man. Behind her followed two sweet children. I watched and listened. I felt froze to the bench I was on when she turned to the children and talked to the boy. When your mother said his name I took a double take and realized that before my very eyes prancing down the sidewalk was the granddaughter I have grieved 7 long years to see. I wanted to jump up, run and hug you! Instead I gathered up Asheleigh and followed your family through the park. Your mother and the man went into a corner store leaving you and your brother on the sidewalk. Asheleigh had our dog on a leash and you asked if you could pet her. I spoke to you about the dog as I kneel down and looked into your eyes. I asked you your name; I was SHOCKED when you did not say Kayla. What? Kayleigh! So for 7 years I did not even have your name right. The fear and anger in me had me shaking. You and Asheleigh even looked alike and I was scared that somehow Asheleigh would know you! You were so sweet to look at and polite to speak with and I did not want to leave you yet I knew I had to act fast. I went inside the store to speak to your mother. Meanwhile the man with her left the store and took you two down the sidewalk. I asked your mother if she knew who I was? She did not, so I told her. I knew the minute I said my name that she was going to continue to denied me access to you. Your mother said she did not need the hassles from her boyfriend if she allowed us into your life. I begged her to just take my phone number, to think on it but she walked away. I dared not make a scene with Asheleigh was with me and you were only a half block away. I cried all the way back home and had to tell Asheleigh that I had something in my eyes…I did my bleeding heart.
Since then I sent an invitation for you to attend Asheleigh’s birthday party, which went unanswered. I will continue to pray that one day your mother will allow us to know each other. Meanwhile I will continue to hold out an olive branch to her every six months or so in the hopes that she has a change of heart.
Each day I place you in God’s hands but you are always in my heart.
Kayleigh; please know that you are deeply loved and missed by your grandmother and sister!
Love and kisses
Grandma Betty
“The Secret of Lasagna”
My grandma, Pauline Pinella, lived with us in Akron, Ohio in the mid-1950s. When she moved from Little Italy in the Bronx, and made lasagna for the first time, we couldn’t get enough. I stood by Grandma, watching her cook while I wrote down her every step. I had to chronicle her process this way because Grandma didn’t speak a word of English. And I didn’t speak Sicilian.
Dressed in a housecoat and shaped like a giant gnocchi, Grandma always began by making her own secret sauce, which perfumed our house all day. She’d get up early and start chopping tomatoes, parsley, onions, and all the herbs. The secret to a good sauce was to add two or three soup bones (the type of meat was not important). After browning the bones well, Grandma would scrape out the gelatinous marrow and stir it into the sauce. Proudly, she said in hard-to-decipher English: only Sicilians knew how to make lasagna —because they loved the marrow.
All day my sister, brother and I were prisoners of that sauce. We swallowed hard just to keep from drooling. We barely touched our lunch since everything was so disappointing compared with the most piquant, succulent, slightly peppery pleasures of lasagna. Quite possibly, Grandma’s lasagna was the best in the world.
By the time I started high school almost everyone we knew in Akron had Grandma’s secret lasagna recipe. And the local newspaper wrote an article about it. Grandma’s recipe had spread across most of the city.
AUTHOR BIO:
Diana Y. Paul was born in Akron, Ohio and is a graduate of Northwestern University, with a degree in both psychology and philosophy, and of the University of Wisconsin–Madison, with a PhD in Buddhist studies. Her debut novel is Things Unsaid (She Writes Press, October 2015). A former Stanford University professor, she is also the author of three books on Buddhism, one of which has been translated into Japanese and German (Women in Buddhism, University of California Press). Her short stories have appeared in a number of literary journals and she is currently working on a second novel, A Perfect Match. She lives in Carmel, CA with her husband, Doug, and two cats, Neko and Mao. Diana and Doug enjoy visiting their two adult children, Maya Miller ( San Francisco) and Keith Paul (Los Angeles), as often as they can.
To learn more about her and her work, visit her author website at http://www.dianaypaul.com and her blog on movies, art, and food at http://www.unhealedwound.com or follow her on Twitter: @DianaPaul10. Visit her author website, http://www.dianaypaul.com for more information.
“The Monkey Ate My Chicken”
At the San Francisco Zoo recently, our 2 ½ year-old granddaughter, Izzy, ran over to the gorilla habitat with us, breathless, behind her. A glass barrier blocked the gorillas from visitors. Most of the gorillas were slouching on the far-side “savannah”, their re-created habitat, and none were standing directly in front of us. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a beautiful and enormous silver-back gorilla about twenty feet away. Izzy pressed her face to the glass.
As Izzy slipped a bite-sized chicken chunk from her Hello Kitty lunch box to munch on, suddenly the silver-back was in front of us, pounding his chest hard, his huge belly pressed against the glass on the other side of Izzy’s face. We lurched back, my heart pounding, as Izzy, startled but not crying, dropped her lunch, and ran.
“The monkey ate my chicken. The monkey ate my chicken.”
To a two-year old, that monkey really had eaten her lunch. Her fear and surprise were her reality. And so, now when any of us are startled by the unexpected—especially Izzy, “The Monkey Ate My Chicken” is our refrain, our go-to expression for Lemony Snicket moments of unforeseeable, unfortunate events. A day at the zoo with Izzy.
Celebrate Grandparents’ Week with joy—and chicken! If I had known grandchildren were so much fun, as the joke goes, I would have had them first.
AUTHOR BIO:
Diana Y. Paul was born in Akron, Ohio and is a graduate of Northwestern University, with a degree in both psychology and philosophy, and of the University of Wisconsin–Madison, with a PhD in Buddhist studies. Her debut novel is Things Unsaid (She Writes Press, October 2015). A former Stanford University professor, she is also the author of three books on Buddhism, one of which has been translated into Japanese and German (Women in Buddhism, University of California Press). Her short stories have appeared in a number of literary journals and she is currently working on a second novel, A Perfect Match. She lives in Carmel, CA with her husband, Doug, and two cats, Neko and Mao. Diana and Doug enjoy visiting their two adult children, Maya Miller ( San Francisco) and Keith Paul (Los Angeles), as often as they can.
To learn more about her and her work, visit her author website at http://www.dianaypaul.com and her blog on movies, art, and food at http://www.unhealedwound.com or follow her on Twitter: @DianaPaul10. Visit her author website, http://www.dianaypaul.com for more information.