Stories From My Gay Grandparents นิยาย & เรื่องราว

At night after the memorable gathering in naming the child, Ravine and Aaron narrate yet another story to their beloved grandchildren. They were aged 8 and 6, both ardent listeners to their grandma's amazing stories. They loved their grandparents more than anything. "Oh!~ So that's how you met grandpa? So romantic, granny!" Aaron laughs delightfully, his chest rumbling with old age. "That's right! We met in a garden. A garden full of wine and we met in a small little hut. We made love too, princess." Aaron boops the little girl's nose, the girl giggling adorably.

Kyla’s story. “Ah! It’s superb that your grandma is still there. How about your grandpa? Where is he now?” “Ah! My grandpa, sir Gio, is gone. He has been dead for a long time. Sometimes grandma feels sad every time she remembers my grandpa. I was inspired by them because my grandma’s story never got to where they separated. After all, even though they didn’t understand each other, one of them humbled themself so that the fight would not last long.” Kyla’s story was smiling.

Gwendoline asked. “Never,” my grandmother replied. “How do you two know each other?” I asked. “Ah, now that’s a story to be told,” my grandmother said enthusiastically. “Grab that chair in the corner Gwen and pull it up next to me. I’ll need your help with this one.” Laughter and light hardheartedness abounded as the two old women I held so dear shared with me the story of how they’d met, fallen in love, and battled over the same man. My grandfather.

And heaven help anyone who forgot that. Grandfather told the story again of how he met Grandmother…how her parents offered her to him because they couldn’t repay a debt. It wasn’t love at first sight. But once he marked her, they realized they were true mates. And because of them, all of us existed. After dinner, we gathered in the living room, going over final details for tomorrow. Then it was time. Lucas and I went to our room to steal a few last moments together. We held each other longer than usual.

Because I'm still not old enough to really know if what I feel for him and love can be fleeting, but I don't believe that, and I have no idea when they tell me that, I bet envy for sure. I always say that I want my relationship to last like my grandparents because they were made for each other, they have been married for 40 years and they cannot live without each other, they are the most beautiful and beautiful seniors and they are still in love. Sometimes, when I'm alone with my grandfather, I ask if he ever cheated on my grandmother and stuff. Then he says he never noticed, because when he married my grandmother he promised to love and respect her and she was the one he married and swore l

"Your grandfather is warming your grandmother's feet. Your grandmother's body isn't in its best shape, and her hands and feet are always ice-cold. Your grandfather can't bear to see her like that. Just pretend you didn't see anything, and never mention it to him." "But why?" "Because your grandfather will make you write lines as punishment." "How do you know all that, Dad?" "It's a very long and saddening story. Good girl, Luka, go back to your room. Your mom and I have something to do." Neither Grandpa nor Grandma ever got married again. My childhood memories were filled with the daily life of my unmarried grandparents. Grandma was a woman of few words, but every time she did say something,

Once I had told her about us. “I dunno.” He paused, taking my hand. “I don’t wanna leave Gramps alone.” “You don’t have to. My nan will be there, and she’s about as normal as a straight-sided circle. They’d get along like a house on fire. She’d probably talk him into going to Bingo with her on the Friday night. And she smokes like a train.” I rolled my eyes. “Perfect match,” he said dryly. “And your Granddad?” “He died in the Vietnam War. He was in the air force and got shot down. I never knew him so it’s kinda hard to be sad about it. My other grandparents – Dad’s parents – moved to Canada when they retired.”

Eric’s POV Aunt Greta told a story about my grandfather and his father. She said we were quite similar in many ways. Just like my father, we were both stubborn children. Grandfather fell in love as a kid while traveling with his father. Unfortunately, the girl in question was an ordinary Thai girl. She was beautiful, he said. His father wasn’t interested in creating such a connection. In times of war, a love that was supposed to bring people together instead created a rift between a father and a son.

Mathias continued speaking, his voice choked with emotion. “...and they didn't fail in their promise," he said, his eyes glistening with tears. "Everyday I spent with them was so precious. My grandfather taught me everything I know. He had lots of stories to tell, stories about witches, vampires and werewolves. Great stories, and I love listening to them. But good things never last long in my life. By the time I was 6 years old, my grandfather died and a year later my grandma followed him. Once again, I was alone in the world with no friends and no family." A tear fell off to the ground.

If a gay couple moved in together, they would inevitably become the talk of the town for years. I recalled a story my grandmother had once shared during a Christmas gathering a few years back. She mentioned a friend's grandson who was gay, and how his grandmother had sought guidance from the village chaplain. The chaplain had instructed her to do everything in her power to convince him to marry a woman, warning that his soul would be lost to the devil if he didn't. It was a stark reminder of the deeply ingrained beliefs and prejudices that still persisted among the older generations.