I never got to meet my grandparents.
Well, that's not complete true.
I met my mother's father, but he died before I could truly remember him at the age of four.
I remember that he would hold me, sneak me treats, and had that sweet old man smile.
But, I also remember the tears my mom let out when she found out her dad's passing.
My other grandparents died before my parents even met.
Illness and accidents succumbing to them.
Whenever my parents talk about their parents to me, my sisters, their family, there's always a sense of grief and longing and pain.
As my mom speak of the desserts her mom would make with her sister
And my dad speak of his mom's to die for cooking with his brothersÂ
As they remember the same memories.
It leaves me wishing that I could meet my grandparents.
Wishing to understand the same memories.