Jessica Woodville | Memoir & Musings

Just the other day, as I was finalizing my memoir for publication, I found myself thinking a lot about family—particularly my grandparents. At 40 years old, I feel incredibly fortunate that they are all still alive. It’s a gift I don’t take lightly, especially after recently learning that my unofficial godparents, Alice and Charlie, had passed away.

Charlie, in particular, holds such a special place in my heart. I mention him in my memoir, and I know now—more than ever—that his actions may have saved me as a young girl. Grief is strange when it sneaks up on you decades later. When my mother lost full custody of me, I think I instinctively knew I’d never see Alice and Charlie again. Still, I hold onto memories of watching Charlie work on motorcycles in his garage and listening to his stories about the little wisdom gnome hiding inside peanuts. Mentioning them in my memoir led me to look them up, and that’s when I found out they had passed—years apart from each other. That loss hit me harder than I expected.

And then, just about a week ago, I got a call from my mother. I didn’t answer at first—my health has been unpredictable lately, and I have to be careful about stress. But when I saw her message—“Got news for you, give me a call as soon as you can”—my stomach dropped. I knew it wasn’t about her. She had just beaten breast cancer. Somehow, I knew it was about my grandparents.

I was right. My grandfather, her stepfather (which is important if you’ve read my memoir), is really sick—five different types of cancer sick. And as determined (and stubborn) as he is, he’s old. The treatments are brutal, and to make things worse, they’ve just found another tumor in his lungs. The doctors aren’t going to operate, and the chemo he needs isn’t even being imported right now.

So now, my next journey—one that feels bigger than any adventure—will be making the almost 900-mile drive across four states to see my grandparents. I haven’t seen them since I was 10 or 11. If you’ve read my memoir, you know my family is complicated. But over the last decade, a lot of wounds have healed, especially between my mother and her side of the family.

I never thought about how we don’t even have a picture of all of us together—maybe not since I was a baby, if ever. And now, before it’s too late, I need to go. I need to hug my grandfather, the same man who once got in trouble for showing me Dirty Rotten Scoundrels when I was just old enough to repeat a new swear word.

So, Ohio, here I come. It’s going to take everything I have to make this journey, physically and emotionally. But I have to go. I have to see him. And maybe, just maybe, we can make one more memory together.

P.s… I think it’s time to get my motorcycle license too… for Uncle Charlie. Let’s just not tell Grandma.