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What Never Was
I don't know why I expected anything to change. My dad's family has been - at best - like friends of the family to me for more years than I can even remember now. I keep thinking that it would be different if my Grandma were alive because she was always "the director." It wouldn't be different though and to say anything different than that would be kidding myself. The part of me that isn't functioning on a level that my mind is making myself function on to get through this without opening up cans of worms that have been sealed so tightly shut for years and years now knows that nothing has changed - for better or for worse. My day to day life will suffer no change at all, and my relationship with that entire family will not change either. The note in my guestbook (thank you MR...) has been swimming around in my head for days now. It appears when the guilt starts creeping in and I fight to remind myself that it wouldn't have been different even if I had tried harder. It wouldn't have been different if I'd have been more forgiving. I'm tired of talking about this - but every time I talk about it I discover something new about myself and the relationship I have with my family. I know now that there was no way that my dad's parents could ever have meant to me what my mom's parents mean to me, but I also know that I would have accepted less - if they had been able to give me that. Anything more than being an afterthought would have been nice. I worked on Thursday and Friday. I'm home today because my dad postponed our plans until tomorrow. I'll be attending the wake and the funeral - but that's all that seems to be expected of me. I had initially planned to give up my weekend and most of next week for this. I had intended to be there, as best I could, for this family I barely know. There's not much that I'm capable of giving in situations like this, but I'm a warm, solid presence and I am flesh and blood. Flesh and blood. My dad has been home for two days. I haven't seen him yet. I'm not angry. I'm too tired to be angry. I was angry for almost 10 years and now I'm finding that there are parts of my heart that used to belong to these people that have died now. The pieces still alive are shriveled and wilting. That message in my guestbook...the part about grieving for what we did not have. It's been a constant companion to me in the last few days. I'm so sad that there's nothing here for me. I keep thinking that maybe my grandma can get to know me now - the way that the people involved in my life know me. And maybe she won't like me - it's possible that she wouldn't have liked me if I had ever shown her anything other than my polite "company" face. She'd have been appalled at my political beliefs and she probably would have burst into tears had we ever discussed religious matters. Some of my life choices would maybe have been enough for her to disown me. There's a lot about me not to like - especially when generation gaps and fundamental personality differences come into play. But there is much good here. So much that has been left untapped by those people. Pieces of me that I would give away in a heartbeat if there was even the slightest indication that there'd be room for it there. I'm so sorry that I never got to give my grandma for any of those pieces - but I'm even more sorry that she never cared to see them. I'm so exhausted by all of this and it hasn't even begun yet. Better days coming soon... |
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