Many years ago, I remember asking my dad why my Great Grandpa and Nanon (My Italian Great Grandma) didn't sleep in the same bed or bedroom. Every week for as long as I could remember we would go to church on Sunday and afterwards we would all crowd into whatever beat up station-wagon we had at the time and go to visit my great grandparents. They lived in a small townhouse like unit in what was known as a very Italian prominent neighbourhood close to the city centre.
Each Sunday for over a decade we would gather there on a Sunday to eat a bowl of pasta and visit with family. Usually there would be our family of 7 on top of at least another family of cousins, aunts, uncles all crammed into this little space. It always felt like entering a sauna when you walked through the backdoor, which entered straight into the kitchen. There was a constant stream of loud chatter and the smell of boiling pasta and homemade pasta sauce. To this day it still one of my favourite memories of a simple family ritual.
My Great Grandpa would seat us all around the dining room table that would fit approximately 8 kids if we crammed in tight, which we always did. He would then pass out the kid sized Montreal Canadians bibs that all kids had to put on before we could eat our pasta. Now, this was of course a great idea, especially for the younger kids who could barely lift a noodle to their mouth without getting pasta sauce all over their Sunday clothes. But, for me I always felt a little bit silly as I was one of the oldest of the kids and at that point, I had already not only outgrown my Grandpa in height (noting he was a very short man to begin with and I passed him in height by the age of 7) and had started to grow boobs. Being that I came from a melting pot of various cultural backgrounds, including Italian, French Canadian, Scottish and English, we were taught you did not question what you were told by your elders. Therefore, I would just smile and wear the bib that barely covered the top of my chest and never really helped if I did spill sauce on myself, which I am positive I did.
In this tiny unit we would visit with family every week and often spend time exploring the upstairs bedrooms and the basement. Upstairs there were 2 bedrooms and I noticed that unlike my grandparents and parents, that Nanon and Great Grandpa had separate rooms. This struck me as odd. I also picked up on the little things that would change when they were both in the same room. Like how Nanon would snap at Great Grandpa when he would ask her a question. Nanon hardly ever snapped at us kids and we were not of the sit quietly and not make a sound variety. And why didn't Great Grandpa ever snap back? He never did though, or at least from what I could see.
As a child, I could not comprehend the reason why they didn't seem happy. Great Grandpa was quite possibly one of the sweetest men I had ever met, and he still is. He would always have a treat for us to sneak such as Maple Cookies or Pink Peppermints. You know, those chalky ones that drain all saliva from your mouth and literally feel like chalk as you try to bite and swallow the rough chunks down. He would always make time to talk with us kids and always told me he thought I was beautiful. For a young girl who had grown far too quickly with long spindly legs and a chest, he made me feel like I wasn't the freak that I saw myself as.
So, around the age of 12 or 13 years old I asked my dad why Nanon and Great Grandpa didn't sleep in the same bed as all the other married adults in my life. He told me that someday he would share what he knew of their life together, but I was too young to understand. He did say though, that we never know someone’s full story and to remember that.
My Great Grandfather passed away of cancer in 1994, when I was 15 years old. I remember feeling as if it really wasn't happening to me, but that I was just observing his passing from afar. My Dad, who was raised in a multi-generational home with his parents and Grandparents was especially upset. He had lost not only a grandfather, but a beloved friend and confidante. Not long after his passing did my dad tell me a little of Great Grandpas life.
My Dad explained to me that first of all, no one is perfect. Each of us have a story and the only person who knows all the details are us, ourselves. He then told me about Great Grandpa's life, from what he knew of it.
Great Grandpa was raised in and around Quebec, Canada. He was a hard worker and according to my dad a bit of a charmer. I always picture that character Pepe Le Pew when I try to describe him from memory. From what I remember, Great Grandpa and Nanon met through her brothers and their marriage was somewhat arranged by both families. They had 3 children together, my grandmother Theresa, their daughter Bernadette and their only son Robert (or Robbie as they called him). My grandparents had my dad when they were very young and as such, my dad was raised with his Aunt and Uncle more as a sibling than a nephew. My Dad was only a few years younger than his Uncle Robbie and said that he was a one of his best friends growing up.
When Robbie was barely in his teens he was diagnosed with cancer and passed away when he was only 14 years old. My Dad told me that Great Grandpa and Nanon had been beside themselves with this loss and it, among other things, had caused a huge rift in their marriage. Dad said that in some ways Nanon blamed Great Grandpa and in some way Great Grandpa blamed himself, as is human nature. I can only imagine the loss of a child and the impact on a marriage and the potential ripples of that impact. I do know, having lost a brother far too early in life, and witnessing my own parents go through their grief, that any relationship is forever changed by a loss that big. How could it not be?!
After the loss of Robbie, my dad told me that Nanon was inconsolable. She turned her attentions to the day-to-day responsibilities of a home, work and family, but never really got over Robbies passing. Great Grandpa too turned his attention towards his work and as such the rift in their marriage grew. Now, I cannot say for certain all the details, just like my dad did not know all the details, but Dad said this is when he noticed the changes that eventually led to the separate beds and bedroom scenario.
Great Grandpa, being a French man and very affectionate needed emotional and physical comfort. He did not feel he was getting that in his home life, so he found it elsewhere and for a very brief time, according to Dad. My Dad didn't elaborate, and I never really asked, but this is when I came to understand that you never really know the whole story. That on the outside, looking in, I was only privy to small glimpses of a life lived with joys and sorrows. How could I judge anyone when I am an affectionate person as well. I crave contact and the thought of not being held or touched by someone I love seems unimaginable.
How could me or anyone judge anyone else without all the details? All I did know is that to me my Great Grandpa was sweet and kind and affectionate. He always smelt of a combination of peppermint and cigars, especially when I went in to kiss him each time we meet or parted. To this day whenever I smell the scent of a cigar, I am taken back to that small unit crammed full of family chatting, eating and the people there who loved each other. My imperfect and beautiful family.
Decades later, whenever I feel myself being overly judgemental or unkind in my thoughts about someone, I try to remember what my dad told me. We don't know the whole story, and that's okay. We must show empathy and realize that others’ lives are not for us to judge. It's my job to make sure I make my life a good one and, in the process, try not to hurt anyone. Here's to trying!
Much Love.
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