My own grandparents had been gone about 10 years when I met Jeanne and Paul when I started dating my wife about 14 years ago. A close family, they were surrogate grandparents to my wife and brother-in-law, and took up the roll with me, my brother's law's wife and their grand-daughters' husbands. They were special people. They had a charm that made hosting parties seem effortless, which they were still doing well into their late 80s. They could communicate with those from 9 months to 99 years; nothing like Aunt Jeanne sitting at the piano to get the little ones attention or great-grandpa Paul making his sound. You didn't feel like you had to visit them, which, less face it, can happen with some older relatives; you felt like you wanted to visit them. They always seemed to put others ahead of themselves, making sure their guest were comfortable. The last few years, as various family members aged and/or moved further away, the Long Island couple took to celebrating their wedding anniversary with a big family dinner at a Manhattan restaurant, central to most of the family (and traveling distance for some of the older NJ relatives). They were the first people, outside of our own mothers who we told when we were pregnant with our first child.
We were also the ones to tell them of the space shuttle exploding a few years ago; we were the first ones over for a family dinner and when we arrived they were all upset they couldn't reach a cousin who had recently entered a nursing home. Trying to console them, we said he was probably just watching the news about the space shuttle. When they asked what news, my wife and I both looked at each other and remembered they weren't big on watching TV. That was the only time I ever Aunt Jeanne, a woman from New Orleans who met Uncle Paul during the war, curse (a simple "Damm!").
Like my grandparents, and many of their generation, they were not highly educated, at least in the sense that we think of educated people now with various degrees. They were self taught, reading whatever books and newspapers interested them. They kept abreast of current events and could argue a position as effectively as anyone. When Aunt Jeanne died the turnout by friends of them (or their children) was immense. I expect the same on Sunday when we return to their home for Paul's memorial (they weren't into funerals). For my wife especially it will be hard as it will probably be the last time she sets foot in a house that she has been visiting and sleeping in for almost 40 years (our last sleep over was about 4 years ago).
Of course, like most others of their generation, they were affected by WWII. Uncle Paul served in Europe, dropping bombs on the Nazis and probably killing those who were killing whatever distant relatives he still had in Germany. He had many stories, some that I've forgotten but, fortunately, are written down somewhere. He had his opinion on the atom bomb and how he was just happy he didn't have to go to Japan after the Nazis surrendered. I knew I had been in the family a long time when the stories started repeating. He kept in touch with many of his war buddies, including one who drew a kid in a comic strip for many decades with big ears that we all swore looked like Uncle Paul's. There aren't may of them left now, and the world's poorer place without them.
However, I feel I'm a richer person for having known them. If I had to describe them in one word, that word would be grace. They didn't believe in the after life so I hope that wherever they are now they are happy to be back together.
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