Thanks to everyone who read and commented on my in-depth story about a grandmother in Houston, Stephanie Johnson, who lost her daughter to domestic violence and is now fighting for the right to see her grandson. Here’s one comment I think everyone should see.
The story of a life well lived.
Thanks to Francie Robertson of Cascade, Montana for submitting this poem, which she wrote when her grandson Titus was a baby, his brother Jude was 2, and she was their daytime caregiver.
I’ve been asking grandparents around the country what they’re called and why. Here are a few of their stories.
A woman honors the grandparents who shaped her.
When Marsha Boyer was diagnosed with cancer, she feared her grandkids would never know her. Here’s what happened next.
When her son died in 2012, Denise Villescaz “saw no light,” she says. Then, two years later, her granddaughters were born.
“Having grandchildren expands your heart beyond all boundaries you’ve ever known,” says Elaine Dove of Tustin, Calif. “It’s like loving your children on steroids.”
Tammi Williams, whose daughter is gay, was “horrified and scared” when she and her wife decided to have a baby with the help of a male friend they barely knew. But then, Tammi says, everything changed.
There are a lot of good reasons to move closer to your grandkids. Then again, there are some good reasons to stay where you are. I asked some grandparents who made the move what happened next.
A letter from a grateful mother whose husband was deployed a dozen times.
How a woman who never had kids became a grandma.
How an infant helped her grandmother bear cancer.
What if you’re an ocean apart from your grandkids?
A reader in Missouri describes a transcendent moment with her grandson.
“We’d make tiny boats of walnut shells, line them with moss, and float them down the streams, where we were sure the fairies would climb aboard.”