The Power of a Card

I have always been a Hallmark junkie. I like to send cards. But the cards have to have meaning. I will often read several cards before I find the right one. I agonize over cards. If I'm looking for a card for say, Mom's birthday, it has to sound like it's from me. 'Thanks for being there' doesn't cut it. But a card that talks about the ups and downs, and how we came through as friends- that one hits me. If the card makes me tear up in the store, I know it will have the desired reaction with my mom (or whomever the recipient is).

My mother is the same way. My sister laughs at us, because she is more of a 'pick and grab' type of person. She reads the card, says 'yes, that's good' and buys it. Mom and I are still looking for just the right card when my sister has moved on to the next store.

I think the reason I do this is because I enjoy receiving cards. I keep the cards that are sent to me. My ideal plan is to have them nicely organized into a storage container- grouped by occasion. I've bought the storage container, but have yet to find all the cards and organize them. But I know I have kept the cards! I think I started keeping them when I turned 16. I have my Sweet 16 birthday cards, my high school graduation cards, the cards of encouragement Mom sent me in college. I no longer have the wedding cards. I kept them until the divorce. And I'm sure no one will blame me for pitching them.

Some cards have much more of a pull on me than others. All my life, I received birthday cards signed 'Love Grandma and Grandpa W' or 'Love Grandma & Grandpa Primeau'. My grandmothers' handwritings were different, but still had that 'old lady' look to them. Grandma Wager's was a little more hurried than Grandma Primeau's. Grandma Primeau's was a little more round. Grandma Primeau always wrote a little note wishing you the best for the coming year. It was something I didn't think about. Two cards each birthday for a granddaughter.

That all changed on my 24th Birthday. I still received the same card from Grandma and Grandpa Primeau, but the other card said 'Love, Grandma W'. Grandpa Wager passed away in February, 2000. Reading the birthday card without his name was hard. It was one of many times that it hit me he was truly gone. After a couple more years, Grandma Wager couldn't write very well, so I got a card from Grandma and Aunt Arlene. It was in Aunt Arlene's handwriting 'Love, Grandma and Aunt Arlene'. I felt another little part of my heart break.

Two years ago, I knew there would only be one card. Grandma Wager joined Grandpa in Heaven in October, 2008. So when my birthday rolled around eight months later, I had prepared myself. Or so I thought. My other Grandma had gotten so busy helping her church prepare for their annual turkey dinner (which is always the first Saturday in June), that she forgot my birthday. There were many birthdays of mine that my Grandparents missed (at her funeral, the other 14 grandchildren said she never missed a birthday. But the truth is- they missed most of mine. They came to my sister's, but not mine. I have struggled with this, wondering if I should even write about it. I know some of my family members read my blog. But I think I have to mention it. It hurt deeply. It hurt each year June 6 came and my Grandparents were in Montreal at a baseball game. And it hurt in February, listening to 14 of her 15 grandchildren talk about her making every birthday party; wondering why she didn't come to mine. But I have made my peace with her. I still had incredible birthday parties, I don't hate her for not coming. I have other things that the others do not have- the links to the family history. A better sense of who we are and who I am. So I'm ok.)

I digress. Anyway, I was used to my Grandparents not being around for my birthday, and Grandma being busy with her church supper. But she had always sent a card. Sometimes, thanks to the mail delivery, it arrived a couple days late. But it always came. So when it didn't come by my birthday, I didn't think anything of it. Then Grandma called that night and told me she hadn't bought me a card because she forgot about my birthday. I admit, I got upset with my Grandmother. They were the only Grandparents I had left, that year in particular, it would have meant so much to have a birthday card signed 'Love, Grandma and Grandpa'.

Last year I did get a card. I have saved it, just like I save all of them. I didn't know it would be the last card until this year, when Grandma died. One of my Aunt's made a calendar for Grandpa with everyone's birthdays on it, and their phone number so he could call them. I knew she was doing this, because she asked for my phone number. So I expected a phone call, I didn't expect a card.

I came home yesterday, and there was a greeting card addressed to me on the table. I didn't recognize the handwriting, but the postage stamp was 'Albany, NY'. Well- that could be just about anyone because all the mail gets the Albany post stamp. Then I saw the address label, and it was Grandpa's address. I paused a moment before opening it, preparing myself. Just as you can never truly prepare yourself for the death of a loved one, you can't prepare for this either. I opened the card, and I have to say, I didn't even read the words inside. My eyes went immediately to the bottom of the card, which was signed 'Love, Gramp'. As the tears flowed, I realized I had never seen my Grandfather's writing. He sent a check too. I told my Grandparents years ago that they didn't have to send me money for my birthday, a card was enough. I worried about them spending money they didn't have. I worried about both sets of Grandparents- Mom's parents who had the good retirements but major health issues, and Dad's parents who had the huge family. Grandma's budget was always $25 per grandchild. With 15 grandchildren, that's a small fortune to put out for Christmas and Birthdays! I told them I didn't need the money, I appreciated it, but I wished they would keep it in case they needed it. It really was the thought that meant more to me. Grandma and Grandpa Primeau kept sending money. She said she wanted to, and Dad told me to let her. I had told her it wasn't necessary, and she was doing it because it made her happy. So the tradition continued.

I saw the check, not written in Grandma's round old lady script, but rather in Grandpa's almost illegible scrawl. Signed by Grandpa. Grandpa's first name is Aubrey, so looking at how he wrote my name- so similar to his own, it just touched me. How have I lived 35 years and never seen this man's handwriting? Then I remembered how Grandpa left school in 8th grade to help support his family during the Depression. I wonder if all the grandkids know that? To say emotions flooded me would be an understatement. I put the check back in the card and closed the card. Just as I closed it, I caught a glimpse of the top of the check, and Grandma's name is still on it. The tears flowed again.

The whole thing was sweet and sad and overwhelming. I couldn't call my parents and talk about it, I was too emotional. Every time I caught a glimpse of that card last night, I burst into tears again. I can't tell you how many times I've stopped while typing this to get a Kleenex. I am so touched by this card, by Grandpa's action. I have no doubt one of my Aunts bought the card and told him to send it. But it is still touching. I will keep it, just as I have kept all the others, but I will treasure it in a very different way.