By Amy Keyes 
I am one of the lucky ones. One of the ones who can say I am almost a half of a century old and still have my own mom to grow up and grow older with. One of the ones who had my own grandma around long enough for her to meet my children and claim her name of GG.
One of the ones who has an ocean of memories where the tide of one generation rolled into the next while the other was still here to bear witness. I am one of the lucky ones.
I left my hometown when I was 23 years old, driving six hours north to join my now husband of 20 years, to build a life together. I had no foresight to tell me that this new path would lead me away from my family with a permanence that has brought me to the present. A time when I am getting ready to send my older son off to college. My youngest, floating on the breeze of these quick years, not far behind.
When I left home so many years ago, my Grandma’s mind was still as sharp as a tack. Her thoughts were still able to recall all of the wonderful roots of our beautiful bond that were watered and nurtured by my mom prioritizing the things she knew would keep our relationship strong even over time and distance.
Whether it was the insistence that we spend the hour driving out to Skokie, IL to see her every week. Or her voice in my ear reminding me that I call her and say hi on a somewhat regular basis (a habit that took me all the way from my high school years to my adulthood). Or the way I watched my mom care for her as the forest in my Grandma’s brain grew too thick to navigate. All of those small and big things became the brick-and-mortar for what I define as intergenerational love—passed down one strong woman at a time.
When I left home so many years ago, my mom was not yet a grandma, or as she is now affectionately named, Grammy or Gaga depending on who you talk to. My mom was still in the throes of parenthood, navigating the unchartered territory of releasing my sisters and me into the world as we grew from teens to young adults.
My mom’s first moments as a grandparent were steeped in trauma. Urgently boarding a plane to be by my side as we delivered our stillborn son. Holding my hand and stroking my hair. Never leaving my side as we mourned the loss of all of our hopes and dreams. And she of hers.
But, I am one of the lucky ones. One who went on to have two more healthy boys. Redefining parenthood for us, and grandparenthood for her.
I know our distance makes grandparenthood different than she envisioned. Lonelier in many ways than any of us could have imagined. No weekly sports events to cheer at. No Sunday dinners. No sleepovers every other week filled with milkshakes and sneaky treats. But all the same, the bond she has built with our boys is beautiful. And even though we can’t make an hour drive to see her, she still prioritizes all of the things that build the amazing relationship she has with our kids.
Years of visits to share in their birthday parties. Weeks of spring break fun, packed to the brim with everything she could think of to make the moments special. FaceTime calls just to say hi. Brownies baked just the way they like them, wrapped in a tinfoil-covered Tupperware container. Special cards in the mail, sometimes with surprises tucked away inside. Annual family vacations to Mexico to relish in the generations of love that continue to bloom in the grandchildren who she treasures and who cherish their time with her. And all of the love she pours into them. Showing them that she sees who they are as individuals and is proud of them every single day.
I am one of the lucky ones. One who has the privilege to watch my mom evolve in her journey as a grandma. I get to learn from the wisdom of her own experience of bringing generations together. See her release herself from the hard lines of being a parent and color outside the lines with her grandchildren. Look at the world through her lens as the matriarch of our family.
What a gift it is to watch my mom be a grandma. And someday I dream that I’ll be able to be the kind of Grammy that my own kids are lucky to have.
by Tania Lorena Rivera 
by Jamie Duhn 
by Vicki Bahr 
