It was supposed to be a simple visit — a grandmother checking on the quality of meals at a local restaurant for her upcoming 50th wedding anniversary dinner with her husband and their immediate family.
Yet, what unfolded for my grandmother was nothing short of disrespectful and heartbreaking.
My grandparents were set to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary in a week.
My grandmother wanted to have a grand family dinner, and wanting everything to be perfect, she decided to visit the restaurant alone to finalize the menu and taste a few dishes for the dinner, including a special request for meatloaf.
“Meatloaf?” my mother asked her. “Why would you want meatloaf for your fancy dinner?”
“Because it’s sentimental, Penny,” my grandmother said, smiling. “Your father and I had meatloaf on our first date, and it’s been one of the constant things in our marriage.”
“Meatloaf Mondays,” my mother chuckled. “It’s been there throughout my childhood.”
“Do you want me to come with you, Gran?” I asked her, because I wasn’t sure about my 72-year-old grandmother tackling the world by herself. As much as my grandmother prided herself on her good health, sometimes she needed help balancing herself.
“No, Nate,” she said. “I’ll be fine! And this way, during the dinner you can be surprised, too.”
