My grandmother is dying. She and I have a strained relationship... barely existent really. Not all of my recollections in this blog may be accurate, but it is how I remember hearing the stories and feeling the feelings that I have had throughout my life. I learned recently that the way we remember events as a child may be very skewed from what actually happened. If family reads this and wants to correct how things happened, by all means, please correct me, but remember that this was MY experience and how it shaped my opinions and feelings about people.
When I was a baby, my parents were supposed to be in my aunt's wedding. At the time, my mother was still breast feeding me and my great grandmother (my mother's grandmother, whom she was very close with) was dying of cancer. My aunt didn't want any children at the wedding, even though my mother was breast feeding. My mother had arranged for a friend to stay with me in the hotel that the wedding was at, so that she could still attend the wedding and breast feed me. Eventually, both of my parents ended up bowing out of the wedding, due to my great grandmother's cancer and the strain between me being breast fed and my mother having to leave the wedding every so many hours to feed me. This caused a rift in the family. My parents were told to not bother going to the wedding, even as guests, and my father was given the terrible ultimatum of choose between your family and your wife and child. Naturally my father chose his wife and child, and we did not see his family for 7 years (except for my great grandmother, his grandmother). I have never known who delivered this ultimatum, but I have always held my grandmother responsible for it. She was the matriarch and the glue that always held the family together, so I believe that she could have put a stop to it if she wanted to.
7 years after all of this, I was 7 or 8, my sister was 5, and my brother was 1. Two more children were born in that time span and my grandparents didn't know them... they didn't know me either. Over those 7 years, I remember my parents speaking of his family but they weren't real people to me. They were distant people I had never met. They could have been dead and their ghosts were haunting my father for all I knew of them... that's what they seemed like to me as a little kid. One day, my parents said that my grandparents were coming to see us. I found this confusing. Where have they been my whole life? Why do they want to see us now? I knew my other grandparents, my uncle, and my great aunt and uncle on my mother's side of the family. Those were my grandparents and my aunt and uncles. Who were these people coming into my life now? My sister has a clear memory of my mother sitting her down and trying to explain grandparents to her. She wasn't getting it and my mother had to break it down for her. My mother's father died when she was 4 and her mother had been in a nursing home since my sister was a 2, so she did not have the memories of them that I had. Grandparents were a completely foreign concept to her. I don't remember that first visit at all. I remember meeting my aunts for the first time and being unsure of myself. I wasn't sure what to call them; the only aunt on my mother's side of the family was married in and we called her Tante, but that was her special name. I didn't know these people. I didn't know how to act around them.
After the initial awkwardness of meeting them, we did go visit them more and try to develop relationships with my father's family. I guess you could say it got better... sort of. I always felt like my siblings and I were second class family members and my grandmother only perpetuated these feelings. If I got stitches in my foot, my grandmother was quick to tell me that one of my cousins got a piece of floor tile stuck underneath her big toenail and how painful it was, but she was such a trooper. If I broke a bone, she told me how that same cousin's appendix burst. It was if she was always trying to one up me for my cousins, even with injuries. I never heard "oh you poor thing" from her or got extra kisses, instead I felt brushed aside and like I didn't matter. She and my grandfather pointed out a fake $100 bill on the refrigerator and told me that sometimes it would "have babies" and a $20 bill would be with it on the refrigerator. It was made clear that these "babies" only went to my cousins. They even listed specific cousins that they told to check if it had had a baby and sure enough, these cousins had found one. Never once did I get a "baby" from the $100 bill on the fridge.
Another time, my siblings, my cousins, and I were playing together. I forget what we were doing, we had soapy sponges and toy watering cans. My grandfather might have put us to task to wash something for all I know. All of a sudden, all 3 of my cousins started waving the soapy sponges near my eyes. I have always been nervous about things near my eyes, and asked them to stop and said that I didn't want to get soap in my eyes. My cousins found this funny and started threatening to throw the sponges at me and started chasing me. I ran away from them. While I was running, I realized that I still had the toy watering can in my hand and so I let go of it. I had no intention of hurting anyone, I just knew that I could run faster without some sort of wind drag. The watering can flew back and hit my oldest cousin in the arm. True to form, she hammed it up, started crying and wailing that I threw the watering can at her. My grandmother started yelling at me and asked why I would throw the watering can at her. I tried to explain that it was an accident and what had happened but she didn't want to hear it. All she knew or cared about was that my cousin had been hurt and I was the monster that had committed such a heinous crime. From then on, I knew for sure that what I said and did, didn't matter in her eyes. I was a second class family member, never to be loved like my cousins are. I didn't know if I was even loved at all or was I just the unfortunate offspring of my father? I continued to go with my father when he would say we were going to my grandparents' house.
Eventually we stopped going to their house except for holidays from time to time. The last time I was at their house was when I was 17 or 18. My grandfather died when I was 19, and I never went there again. I think it was largely because my grandmother became agoraphobic, after my grandfather's death, so my father would try to get her out of the house by inviting her over for parties and holidays. Sometimes she came, sometimes she didn't. In later years, the latter became the norm.
Fast forward to more recent times. I had a couple dreams of my great grandmother, who has been gone for 14 years, and who I miss very much. One of them was just her face and she said, "you need to go see your grandmother," and then the dream ended. I found it odd and told my sister about it. She suggested that since my grandmother is dying perhaps deep down somewhere, I have a need to talk to her and/or see her. I still held onto my anger with her and was not sure I was ready to commit to a 4 hour round trip drive to see someone who didn't give two shits about me. Two days later, my sister texted me to tell me that my grandmother had gone to the hospital with pneumonia and had been released to a nursing home and that she may or may not have lung cancer. I wrestled with whether I should go see her or not. After all, my work schedule did get changed and I had Sundays off. I called my mother and told her about what was going on. My mother is a creature of light. She will encourage you to do whatever it is you need to do, regardless of her personal feelings. My parents have been divorced for 15 years and she could have very easily said "you don't have to go see your grandmother." But instead she said, "that is your grandmother. You need to go see her. She is dying." I told her of my hurt and anger and about the time with the watering can that she had never heard about. She insisted that "these are the times that you need to put all of that aside and go see her. Don't let it get in your way and let her die without seeing her. You will regret it for the rest of your life if you don't." I said that I felt nothing for her. She said she understood but maybe I should go see her anyway and if I feel nothing still, then that's fine, but this is about having compassion for another human being. She suggested that I go with my sister if it's too awkward to go alone. I wrestled with this idea for a couple days and finally texted my sister asking if she knew whether my grandmother was still in the nursing home. She said as far as she knew she was and that she was going to go visit her the following day after work. My sister knows me all too well and asked what days I had off and asked if I wanted to go with her. I jumped on that and we agreed to go the coming Sunday.
Saturday came and my sister called my grandmother. She told her that we were planning on coming to see her. She told my grandmother that I was coming from a long way to see her. My grandmother said she didn't know if she wanted us to come and that she would call her on Sunday. My sister called me after that to tell me what my grandmother had said. She said I didn't have to come down if I didn't want to since there was no guarantee that my grandmother would see us. I was angry at first. Yet again, my grandmother doesn't want anything to do with me. I'm coming a long way just to see her and she doesn't care. Why doesn't she care? Do I really want to drive all that way and run the risk of her refusing to see me? I thought about it and decided to go down to visit. I knew that it would be better to go down in case she said to come. And what was the worst that would happen? If I didn't see my grandmother, then I would spend the day with my sister, and that's not a bad day at all.
On Sunday, I made the 2 hour drive. My sister and I went to lunch and had a great time as we always do. We called my grandmother and asked her if it was ok to come over. She didn't answer. We decided to head toward her house. We stopped for flowers and decided that if worse came to worst, we would leave the flowers on her porch if she didn't want us there. My sister knocked on the door a couple times, but she didn't answer. We cracked the door opened and called to her. From the living room, I heard a frail voice that said to come in. We walked into the house and all of the shades were drawn and the house looked so sad. It was nothing like what I remembered. It used to be bright and airy and had a distinct but familiar smell. That was gone. I walked into the living room and there was this small, frail woman wrapped in a fleece magenta bathrobe and blankets. Was this my grandmother? It couldn't be. She was a giant among men... or at least that's how I always remembered. She had always been thin and tall, but now she is all skin and bones. Her fingers are swollen and twisted from what I can only guess might be from arthritis. She saw the flowers and smiled. My sister and I gave her a hug and a kiss and asked where she would like us to put them. She pointed to a table and told us to sit down.
This was the first time in my entire life that I remember seeing her happy to see me. Don't misunderstand, she never acted like she was unhappy to see me, but this was entirely different. I had never seen that look on her face when I came in the room. It was the look that I have been craving my entire life. It was a look of being excited to see us and happy to spend time together. My heart melted. I wanted to hold on and be angry, but in this moment, I couldn't, my heart went out to her. She was so alone in this dark place that used to be a warm home. I wanted to cry when I saw her. We sat and talked for some time. I don't know if it's that she's dying, or that she's developing some sort of dementia setting in, or if she has just gotten to that age when she just doesn't care anymore, but I saw a wall come down. She was a raw human being and I gained a window into my grandmother that I had never seen. It was something entirely foreign to me. In some ways it was jarring, but in others it was nice to see. We didn't stay too long since she seemed to keep nodding off and we didn't want to overwhelm her. We made sure she had what she needed until my aunt was supposed to get there to cook her dinner. When we left, I also saw a look that I had been craving. She was sad to see us go. Sure, we always said goodbye and we loved each other, but this was not the same. This was a moment where she was truly happy that we came to visit and she was truly sad to see us go. This short visit was everything that I wanted from her, my entire life. I desperately wanted to feel loved and wanted by my grandmother and for the first time in 26 years, I felt that.
This visit changed me. I was so angry with her, my entire life. I felt so unimportant and unloved. I felt cast aside. In some ways, it would have been easier to stay angry with her. It would have been easy to shield myself with the anger built up from such a young age and into my early adult years. This visit stripped that anger away and left me vulnerable and raw and hurting. I had been looking for this from her, my entire life, and I could never get it until now when she is dying. In some ways, this hurts more than the previous 26 years. Why couldn't it be like this my entire life? Why did it have to be at what looks like the end of her life? Why did she allow her pride and stubbornness to get in the way? Why hold a grudge against innocent children that had nothing to do with the family drama? There is so much I wish we could do over, but with the love that I saw from her today. There are no do overs though. Life is fleeting and you can only move forward, but there isn't much time to move forward. Sometimes I think maybe it would have been better to stay away. I tell myself that because I am uncomfortable with these raw emotions and vulnerability. It certainly would have hurt less. I don't really think I could have done that though. I think deep down, I knew I had to see her. I think it was something I needed as much as she needed the company. I wanted to cry when I saw her. I wanted to cry when I left. I cried when I called my mother to tell her that I had visited my grandmother and expressed my hurt and frustration over my relationship with her. I fight off tears now, as I finish this blog entry... I don't even know how to finish it really. All I can say is that I am raw and vulnerable and hurting... but I'm not sure that I could go back to the anger that I felt before last weekend.
