A Letter… by Janet Stobie
Introduction
This story is intended as a tribute to all the Grandma’s and Grandpa’s of this world who have done their best to give love and wisdom to their grandchildren. As a Grandma myself, I have had the privilege of loving nine grandchildren and one great grandson. Their presence in my life is God’s precious gift. My hope is that through my love and my living they will receive some of the wisdom I have gained over the years. My twenty-six year old grandson, Tim, told me during a phone call, “Grandma, you and Grandpa have created a wonderful loving family and I am grateful.” His comment was the motivation for writing this little story. I have used the letter format because words that are written in a letter have a lasting effect even today.
A Letter to Grandma and Grandpa
Written by Janet Stobie
Fiction for All Ages
Written by Janet Stobie
Fiction for All Ages
Hey, Grandma and Grandpa, this is Stephen,
Just want to thank you both for the book you gave me for my seventeenth birthday. It’s great. I sat down last night and read half of it.
Besides saying thank you, I want to tell you that you have already given me the most precious gift possible. Ever since I was born, you have been part of my life. I have so many wonderful memories of sleepovers at your house. Most of my friends live far from their grandparents. I have always had the two of you just around the corner.
Tonight, I’m thinking about my seventh birthday celebration at your house. Mom and Dad wondered why I chose to spend that night with you, rather than have a party with my friends. Even back then, I knew just how special time with the two of you would be.
Grandpa, this memory is more about you and your stories. I will write again and focus on my time with Grandma.
Grandpa, you picked me up from school, in your red Rav4 hybrid. I loved the fact that you drove a red car and I was proud that it was a hybrid. When we got to your house, the aroma of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies greeted us as we opened the door. Grandma, you’re a wonderful cook. I can still taste those cookies, hot from the oven, chewy, lots of melted chocolate. For me, they were the taste of love. You wrapped me in your arms that day and held me close just for a minute. I loved the softness of you. The frills of your apron tickled my nose. You are security and love with skin on. And Grandpa too.
That night, after birthday cake and candles, Grandpa, you and I cuddled on the couch. I stretched my legs out as far as I could, but my feet didn’t reach your slippers. My birthday pj’s, soft, warm and covered with stars and moons and spaceships were a little too long. They drooped down almost to your ankles and kept my feet snuggly warm.
Tucked in between us was my trusty elephant, Rajah. Mom had given me Rajah for my first birthday, along with the book she had written just for me, “Rajah Finds His Wisdom”. Back then, Rajah was my constant companion and my much-loved best friend, except at school, of course. I was afraid the other boys would make fun of me or steal him, so I left him at home. I remember being embarrassed about my friend Rajah’s importance in my life. I could bring Rajah to your house, though. I trusted your love. That birthday night, I casually told you that I might be getting too big for Rajah.
Grandpa, you smiled and said, “I have a story to tell you, Stephen.”
You picked up the big picture book that waited on the coffee table. The cover told me it was about outer space. You always seemed to know just what I would like. I remember you opened it to a double page spread of night-time in the forest. Somehow, the photographer had captured the glory and beauty of the stars streaming across a velvety midnight sky above a clearing in the forest. This is the story you told me, Grandpa. I remember it so clearly. You pointed to that clearing, your finger actually touching the paper and said:
Just want to thank you both for the book you gave me for my seventeenth birthday. It’s great. I sat down last night and read half of it.
Besides saying thank you, I want to tell you that you have already given me the most precious gift possible. Ever since I was born, you have been part of my life. I have so many wonderful memories of sleepovers at your house. Most of my friends live far from their grandparents. I have always had the two of you just around the corner.
Tonight, I’m thinking about my seventh birthday celebration at your house. Mom and Dad wondered why I chose to spend that night with you, rather than have a party with my friends. Even back then, I knew just how special time with the two of you would be.
Grandpa, this memory is more about you and your stories. I will write again and focus on my time with Grandma.
Grandpa, you picked me up from school, in your red Rav4 hybrid. I loved the fact that you drove a red car and I was proud that it was a hybrid. When we got to your house, the aroma of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies greeted us as we opened the door. Grandma, you’re a wonderful cook. I can still taste those cookies, hot from the oven, chewy, lots of melted chocolate. For me, they were the taste of love. You wrapped me in your arms that day and held me close just for a minute. I loved the softness of you. The frills of your apron tickled my nose. You are security and love with skin on. And Grandpa too.
That night, after birthday cake and candles, Grandpa, you and I cuddled on the couch. I stretched my legs out as far as I could, but my feet didn’t reach your slippers. My birthday pj’s, soft, warm and covered with stars and moons and spaceships were a little too long. They drooped down almost to your ankles and kept my feet snuggly warm.
Tucked in between us was my trusty elephant, Rajah. Mom had given me Rajah for my first birthday, along with the book she had written just for me, “Rajah Finds His Wisdom”. Back then, Rajah was my constant companion and my much-loved best friend, except at school, of course. I was afraid the other boys would make fun of me or steal him, so I left him at home. I remember being embarrassed about my friend Rajah’s importance in my life. I could bring Rajah to your house, though. I trusted your love. That birthday night, I casually told you that I might be getting too big for Rajah.
Grandpa, you smiled and said, “I have a story to tell you, Stephen.”
You picked up the big picture book that waited on the coffee table. The cover told me it was about outer space. You always seemed to know just what I would like. I remember you opened it to a double page spread of night-time in the forest. Somehow, the photographer had captured the glory and beauty of the stars streaming across a velvety midnight sky above a clearing in the forest. This is the story you told me, Grandpa. I remember it so clearly. You pointed to that clearing, your finger actually touching the paper and said:
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“Imagine a tent filled with light set up just here. When I was a young boy, just about your age, my dad and I went camping. We always had a bright light inside our tent even when we were sleeping. Dad said it would keep any stray animals from trying to join us.”
“Just as we were going to sleep, I remembered my teddy bear, Buddy. Like your Rajah, my Buddy came to me as a gift when I was two. I loved Buddy. He had given me courage when I went to the hospital to have my tonsils out. By then I was four. That’s still pretty little to be in hospital. I was afraid. I remember the nurse wouldn’t let me bring Buddy into the operating room. It was against hospital regulations. Buddy hadn’t been sterilized. When she saw my eyes fill with tears she tried to help by telling me I was a big boy and didn’t need Buddy. I knew that wasn’t true. I needed Buddy. I cried. My mom understood. She gave me a big hug and said that she would hold Buddy for me. Mom said that both she and Buddy would be right there with me in Spirit. Mom knew it had nothing to do with being big or little. You always need your friends, especially when you’re afraid.” |
Grandpa, you stopped the story for a moment and looked across the room. I was sure you were seeing yourself as that little boy, frightened and wanting your friend. You kind of shook your head and started talking again.
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“Another time, one of my friends came to our house and picked up Buddy from my bed. ‘What’s this beat-up old teddy bear doing here? You should throw him out. He’s had it.’
I remember grabbing Buddy and whispering to him. ‘Just ignore him. You’re my wonderful friend. I love you. I won’t throw you away. Promise.’” |
You looked back at the picture Grandpa and smiled. Then you put your arm around me and pulled me a little closer as you continued your story.
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“The night Dad and I were camping, I had left Buddy in the trunk of the car. I wanted him with me, but I was afraid to go get him myself in case there were animals lurking outside. Dad was already snoring. He was tired. He’d done most of the work setting up camp. I couldn’t wake him just for my teddy bear. He’d already teased me about bringing Buddy in the first place. I remember laying there, wondering how Buddy was feeling. I asked God to take care of him, to keep him from feeling lonely. I reminded myself that we were together in Spirit, just like Mom had said at the hospital. Friends are like that, Stephen. Even when you can’t be together because of distance or circumstances, your hearts and your love bring you together.”
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At that moment, Grandma came into the room carrying something. She handed me a truly tattered teddy bear. I knew right away this was Buddy. I cuddled him close. He was just like you, grandpa. Most of his hair was missing. His eyes bugged out a little. He had your tummy. And best of all he smelled just like you.
Delighted, I said, “You’ve still got Buddy?”
You smiled, “Of course, dear boy. Buddy’s my friend. Oh, I don’t carry him around all the time, now. He sits on my dresser in my bedroom. I don’t sleep with him cause,” you stopped and winked at me, “cause I have Grandma. But he’s still with me. You don’t ever throw your friends away, Stephen. I promised Buddy way back when I was seven, that I’d never throw him away. He’s precious.”
I tucked Rajah in beside Buddy in my arms and looked into your eyes, Grandpa, “So I don’t have to give up Rajah, do I? I’ll never be too big, or too grown up or too important for Rajah.”
“That’s right, Stephen. Remember that. You never outgrow your friends both human and stuffies.”
Today on my seventeenth birthday, Grandpa, I’m so glad you told me that story so long ago. This past week, my best friend, David, was killed in a car accident. We promised to be friends forever. I am feeling so lost and sad but I am keeping your story and your words in my heart. Even though David and I can’t be together physically anymore, he will always be with me in Spirit. He’s my friend, a part of me. David’s mom gave me his ball cap that he wore everywhere. I keep his cap beside Rajah on my dresser. Thank you, Grandpa. I know that you and Grandma will always be with me too. Like my friend, David, you’re woven into my heart.
Delighted, I said, “You’ve still got Buddy?”
You smiled, “Of course, dear boy. Buddy’s my friend. Oh, I don’t carry him around all the time, now. He sits on my dresser in my bedroom. I don’t sleep with him cause,” you stopped and winked at me, “cause I have Grandma. But he’s still with me. You don’t ever throw your friends away, Stephen. I promised Buddy way back when I was seven, that I’d never throw him away. He’s precious.”
I tucked Rajah in beside Buddy in my arms and looked into your eyes, Grandpa, “So I don’t have to give up Rajah, do I? I’ll never be too big, or too grown up or too important for Rajah.”
“That’s right, Stephen. Remember that. You never outgrow your friends both human and stuffies.”
Today on my seventeenth birthday, Grandpa, I’m so glad you told me that story so long ago. This past week, my best friend, David, was killed in a car accident. We promised to be friends forever. I am feeling so lost and sad but I am keeping your story and your words in my heart. Even though David and I can’t be together physically anymore, he will always be with me in Spirit. He’s my friend, a part of me. David’s mom gave me his ball cap that he wore everywhere. I keep his cap beside Rajah on my dresser. Thank you, Grandpa. I know that you and Grandma will always be with me too. Like my friend, David, you’re woven into my heart.
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Love and Prayers, Stephen
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