A true love story – and a pattern
I barely knew my grandparents. I grew up in Hawaii, and my surviving grandparents lived in California, so my memories of them are limited to a few trips to the Mainland, and their few trips to Hawaii. I last saw my grandfather when I was in university, six months before he passed away. My grandmother had been gone for five years, my grandfather had just moved into a nursing home, and my aunts were clearing out the house. I was about to head off to New Zealand to study abroad, and knew I might never have another chance to see my grandfather. While I was visiting my aunts showed me a few pieces of Grandma’s clothes, and her enormous hat collection. We had the loveliest time looking at all the hats, laughing at the flower-covered 1960s beehives, and cooing over little veiled ’40s numbers. My aunts insisted I try on Grandma’s dresses. They fit like a glove, and thus, as the only grandchild the right size (and the only one …