I grew up living with my grandparents — here are 10 important life lessons they taught me

Last month, at age 23, I moved to an apartment in Brooklyn, New York, and it's the first time I'm living on my own, aside from four years in college. Brooklyn isn't a big move from New Jersey, but based on the amount of Jewish guilt gifted to me from my grandmother, it might as well be the other end of the world.

As I adjust to my new routine in the city, I can't help but look back on how living with two people from the silent generation impacted my life. From realizing that prune juice actually isn't that bad to how to properly read the newspaper, here are 10 lessons I will take with me into my new home.

I was a sophomore in high school when I had a few friends over for a sleepover on a Friday night. We were probably watching reruns of "Scandal," a show we would watch almost every time we hung out while everyone else was at a football game or party we weren't invited to. It was about 2 a.m. when my grandparents walked in, half a bottle of Chardonnay in my grandpa's hand.

My friend Emma asked, "Are guys just getting home now? We're 16 and we don't even go out this late."

My grandma jokingly responded, "Well, that's pretty lame of you guys, don't you think?"

I don't consider myself an extrovert, but my grandparents weren't necessarily either. Still, when Saturday night hit, my grandfather insisted on going out, and he knew how to hold a conversation.

Now, after working 40 hours a week, I want to crawl up in my bed each Saturday and sleep until work again on Monday. The idea of leaving my apartment to take a 35-minute train in 40-degree weather to go to a party sounds like possibly the worst plan to ever exist.

But I think of my grandparents, and I force myself to go. You never know when something is going to be fun until you go, but first, you have to put in the effort of putting yourself out there.

My grandparents had more friends than most people would make in four lifetimes. Though, just because my grandparents had plenty of friends, it doesn't mean they had the same opinions towards all of them.

There's one friend in particular who, every time my grandparents would mention her name, they would put the word "crazy" in front of it. I once asked my grandma why she continues to be friends with this person if she thinks she's "so crazy."

She simply responded, "I find her interesting."

For my grandparents, "interesting" was the only requirement someone needed to be welcomed into their life.

My grandparents taught me friendship is about what people are adding to your life. Not everyone needs to check every box: There are friends you party with, friends you gossip with, and friends that you sit up with at 2 a.m. philosophizing with. Different types of friends make you a more whole human.

Plus, as my grandparents got older, I watched them have to deal with their friends passing away. It made me appreciate that they continued to make friends throughout their life, so that in the end, they would never be alone. I have learned to love meeting new people, and I hope to continue to make new friends throughout my life.

My grandparents were travel agents, and if you pointed to any country on a map of the world, there was a 90% chance that they had been there. More than that, 40 years after their trip to said country, they could tell you the best hotels to stay at, sights to skip, and meals to enjoy. As a kid, I went on a few vacations with them to places like Puerto Rico, the Bahamas, and Cape Cod. Each vacation consisted of my grandpa screaming at everyone to wake up at the crack of dawn because he "wasn't paying all this money for us to sleep in all day."

Now when I travel on my own with friends, I find myself being the one pushing everyone out of bed so that we can catch the free continental breakfast before taking a six-hour walking tour of London because even if I'm only in London for 48 hours, I'm going to see all of London.

My grandparents believed in having a family dinner every night, where I was encouraged to think critically about politics and forced to defend why I thought that way. It didn't matter if I had a different political opinion from my grandparents, but I always knew I had to come to the dinner table with facts — and sometimes even sources for those facts — to back up why I thought the way that I did.

A few years ago, after eating dinner at my house one night, a friend from college told me how "remarkable it was that my family all had the same exact politics, but we still managed to argue about every single view."

As much as my grandparents liked to argue about the state of the world at the dinner table, they also believed in actively participating in their communities to make them a better place. My grandmother served on our town's planning board committee, was head of the home and school association, and ran for school board twice. My grandpa was the head of the senior group at our temple and volunteered at our local JCC for years.

For my grandparents, it wasn't enough to say you supported a cause or believed in something — you were expected to actively participate in making these ideas reality.

If you went into the pantry of my house in New Jersey right now, you would find almost every item with the word "low-sodium" in front of it. Living with people over the age of 70 also means dealing with their various health issues, like high blood pressure.

I got so used to never cooking with salt that now when I eat at other people's houses, salt is often the only thing I can taste.

I wish I was joking when I say my grandparents regularly beat me at most sports throughout my life. Even in their 70s, they would often take me to the local tennis courts, where after the game, the amount of sweat dripping off me looked like I just played Serena Williams at Wimbledon. I'm not sure if that says more about their tennis skills or mine, but I was always impressed how even in their old age, they always found the energy to exercise regularly.

Even now, my 87-year-old grandmother still finds time to exercise by taking walks up and down our street.

My grandma likes to tell a story about one of the first dates she went on with my grandfather when they were in their early 20s in New York City. They had just eaten dinner and got in a taxi when my grandpa handed my grandma his glasses. She asked him why he did that, and he told her that his ex-girlfriend used to clean his glasses for him. My grandma proudly told him, "Well, I'm not your ex-girlfriend," and dropped the glasses back into his hands.

My grandparents got married in the late 1950s, about 20 years before women had the legal right to apply for a credit card separate from their husbands, serve on a jury in all 50 states, or attend college at most Ivy League institutions. In many ways, my grandparents ran a traditional home where my grandpa worked and my grandmother raised the kids, but that didn't mean one had any other power over the other: Every major decision my grandparents made for their lives was made together as a unit.

There were times that walking back from school I would hear them yelling at each other from down the street, but, in the end, they were partners who respected each other's intelligence and individual lives. Now, having watched them, I could never date someone who was only interested in a romantic relationship that did not include an equal partnership and friendship.

My grandparents lived an active lifestyle, but at the end of the day, I knew I would always hear them screaming at me to get the ball in a field hockey game or watch them listen to me sing in a choir concert where I was actively throwing off our group's pitch.

From them I learned that everyone is busy, but relationships come down to who is actively trying to make time for you in their day. In both my romantic and platonic relationships, I have felt a need in the past to fight to have people in my life or prove that I am worthy of people's time and love. Yet, living with my grandparents made me realize that if people want to be in your life, they will figure out a way to do that, and you shouldn't have to push them to want it.

My grandfather passed away the day before my birthday this past August from Lewy body dementia. While his passing was obviously upsetting, we knew he wasn't happy being stuck in his room watching television, unable to move on his own, or express himself in words. My grandmother has dementia of her own, which has gotten worse since his passing. She can no longer drive and is starting to struggle to maintain a normal conversation.

When I think back to stories about how active and expressive they used to be, I can't help but feel incredibly sad that their last moments have to be stuck alone in their rooms. I think anybody who is close to someone with memory or physical issues in old age goes through similar crises of feeling helpless in making their life better.

I have to remember that before this, my grandparents lived an absolutely incredible life filled with friends, traveling, and unique experiences that I could only dream of.

It's usually when I'm having these thoughts that I realize I'm also sitting in my bedroom, on my computer, alone, and think, "Well, I actually have the ability to go out and live my life. Why am I also sitting here watching television?"

It's then I hear my grandpa's voice in my head telling me that I'll have time to sleep when I'm dead, so I get up and text a few friends to see if they want to get a drink, and head out the door.

It's also usually around this time that I receive a text from my grandma that says, "Hope u r not keeping ur room in ny as dirty as you keep your room at home. Plz cln next time home. Thnks." So I pick up a few items of clothing off the floor on my way out.