Goodbye, Grandmother.

My last living grandparent died last night.  My father’s mother, I think 2 1/2 years after her husband passed.  Having spent 30 years with 3 generations above me it’s weird as hell having only my parents around now.  I’m estranged from my father anyway, as I was from his parents.  

They all disowned me because I left my idiot-husband and got on with my life.  They took issue with me dating again, taking a lover after 8 years with that neuter I was sadly stuck to.  Apparently, for their sake, I was supposed to live like a nun until I was properly divorced.  As if a piece of paper in a building somewhere has any real meaning once love is dead, gone and buried.  I’d do it all the same way again.  It is their choice to be small-hearted.  I spent my whole life being made to feel not good enough, being made to feel worthless and unloveable.  My first husband made me feel so utterly undesirable, so ugly and ungainly.  He always said I was lucky to have him because no one else would put up with me.  Gosh, I wonder why I was so delighted to find that all that wasn’t true?  I wonder what on Earth possessed me to take a lover after leaving him? 

Consequently, my grandmother never even met my 2nd born.  My father and his parents never even met Squid or Bug, never.  My grandmother chose to leave it all that way, to die with things this way.  Because, in her eyes, I was branded with a scarlet A.  17 years, that’s how long it’s been since she shut me out, and to my sisters, cousins etc I appear to be the bad one who didn’t rush to her bedside… she didn’t want me there, all she would have had to do was ask.  I didn’t need an apology, I don’t expect perfection from people, I’m more than willing to forgive and forget most things.  “Tell Mephit to come.” That’s all she’d have to say to my sister, Noel.  Nothing more.  Just enough so I’d know I wasn’t intruding, pushing in where I am not welcome, but she didn’t, so I didn’t.  It was her death, not mine, not about me, it was all about her and how she wanted to spend her last, doubtless awful, days.  Why would I go and make her unhappy or uncomfortable?  What kind of horse’s ass would shove their way in and cause distress to a dying woman?  Not me.  I’m a grownup and I know how to show respect for someone’s wishes. 

I really would do it all again just the way I did it.  My life is wonderful.  I have 3 beautiful kids and the world’s most wonderful husband.  I have loyal, amazing friends who love me for who I am.  I regret only that her heart was so small or so cold that she did not make room for me to be a different person from her.  She could not respect my decisions and she stuck to those guns for 17 years, even after my grandfather died, even through her own failing health, there was no forgiving me for what she thought were sins.  That was her decision, and I respected it, through my own loss, I respect it still.  I did my insignificant part in giving her the death she wanted.  It was all that was given me to do.  

So now I watch the tributes roll by on social media about how loving and forgiving she was.  As people in my family tell stories of how sweet, kind and gentle she was to everyone and post pictures from ancient times, when I was still in her good graces, and more modern, when I was consistently absent, I don’t even know what to say.  I can’t say; “I’m sorry for your loss.” because it’s my loss too only most of my loss happened almost 2 decades ago.  And I can’t join in all the praises for what a loving lady she was for she chose to show me a face like a brick wall and a heart of ice.  I could say she was kind to me when I was a child, but it seems too small a praise to give, if truthful.  So I’m avoiding the lists, keeping away from the places my family will be posting and posting and posting.  I’m sad she’s gone, I’m sorry she suffered so before the end and I’m sorry my sisters and cousins and others lost a person they loved so well and who, apparently loved them back.  I would have liked for her to know my kids, she would have marveled at them, my wondrous sweetlings, she would have laughed at their antics and applauded their successes, I suppose.  

The last 17 years have been wonderful, I would have liked to have her have been a part of them but I would not go back and sit quietly in my cell waiting for the ink to dry on my divorce papers before venturing out to try to find love again.  Had I done things differently, I would not be where I am, I almost certainly would have missed that magic-kissed moment when my husband and I were both ready to find each other and to recognize how staggeringly lucky we both were to be in each other’s arms.  My darling Bug would not grace this world at all.  No, I don’t regret my choices, not at all, but I missed her and now I will miss her a little more.  She is more mine and closer to me now than she has been in years.  I like to think death must give one a marvelous dose of perspective and that now she can see past her hang-ups and prejudice and see ME now, as a whole person, and not just the person she wished I was.  Maybe now she can see that I am a good mom and a good wife.  That I’m a softy of a mom, just as she was, she and I were never ones for the “cry it out” methods.  Maybe she can see my homey cooking and small attempts at decorating and see echoes of things she did.  Maybe now she can see that the door was always open on my side, I don’t know, maybe not.  

Of all the things I hope about her, I hope she can see what a treasure she had in my sister, Noel.  Noel cared for her through everything.  Raising her kids and working full-time didn’t cause her to neglect our grandmother.  She took her shopping, did her gardening once she was past it and cared for our grandfather day and night as he slowly, slowly died.  She said to my darling, selfless sister as my grandfather lay dying; “You’re not inheriting any of the money. I hope you know that.  It’s all going to your Aunt and her family.”  My Aunt and her family who have done nothing but fritter away their lives on themselves, while Noel and my father cared for my grandparents day after day, year after YEAR.  I suppose that could be construed as speaking ill of the dead, but I merely mean to say that my grandmother couldn’t see the angel before her and I hope she can see her clearly now.  It really bothers me that in the midst of such suffering and sadness, as her husband died, she was thinking about the family money and felt compelled to let my sweet sister know it wasn’t for her.  As if my sister might be motivated by some imagined reward and not love and kindness.   I really hope she can see clearly now and that she is at peace.  I miss the woman I used to know, who told me the names of plants and birds and brushed my hair gently, and braided it loosely so it wouldn’t hurt.  She was kind when I was little, and I loved her. 

I’m Drunk and I Don’t Care Anymore

My grandmother is dying.  She is.  She is 1, 000 miles away from me  and dying.  I am pretty drunk and struggling to type… omg this is taking so long it’s all backspacing and retyping… anyway….  My grandmother is dying, she has congestive heart failure or something and she is on her death bed.  My last, living grandparent.  I don’t know how to do this, I don’t know how to be  in the world with only one generation above me… until I was 30 there were THREE generations between me and the Grimm Reaper.. now only one… what the fuck?  How did this fucking happen???? 

Anyway, I miss her.  I wish she would call me to her bedside, but she won’t.  She disowned me 17 years ago and I Fucking will NOT make her death about me.  I WILL NOT.   If she wants me all she has to do is ask, no apology needed, I will be there.  But I will not make her death about ME. Fuck that.  But gods… my heart is breaking that she is suffering and dying and that some of my family is suffering with her.  😦   

OMG, FML. 

Another Step

Changing it up for today;  I rearranged the bedroom.  Our bed faces the door now and I switched the box fans around so the airflow is actually better.  I wasn’t expecting that to work.  ^_^   I used this opportunity to ditch the cable box and the Wii from the bedroom flotsam, thinned out the dvds too.

I’m liking the bed, dressers and TV placement a lot now but the shelves, multiple shelves look just awful.  Before their clutter was at least half hidden by the bulk of the bed and another shelf was partly blocked by being in a shadowy corner and stuck partway behind a large dresser, now they are out in the open and much better lit.  Just looks like a jumble of junk.  I’ll find a way to sort it out but in the meantime it isn’t very soothing to look at, and I do try to have a serene atmosphere in the bedroom.

I also helped Bug make rootbeer today.  It was a kit, probably all chemicals and such, it was a gift and Bug had been wanting to make it for ages.  I was more of a consultant than an actually participant.  I helped with measuring and answered questions, helped with logistical things like pouring back and forth.  I was working on the room at the time and going back and forth.  It was good to finally use the kit, I hate having things lying around forever, maybe the rootbeer will come out ok.  I also got the TV, Xbox and Appletv-thing hooked up and working properly.  Major personal accomplishment there; technology is not my first language, it doesn’t come easy to me.  I still need to seriously weed-out un-needed clothes and things.

Rounded out my activities with washing dishes and doing laundry.

Beginning with a Single Step.

Spent this entire day, still going just taking a break, cleaning and decluttering just the bedroom.  Sadly it looks pretty much the same still.  It’s demoralizing.  I’m trying to scale back, simplify and become a little more organized so that daily life will run smoother here at the homestead, so that sweeping and vacuuming are pretty possible most of the time to cut down on allergens and potential bug habitat.  So much effort has yielded almost invisible results it’s almost depressing.  

At least I found 2 pairs of missing shoes and bunch of receipts I was looking for.  Also found a bill and paid it, that was good too, as was finding a book I knew I had but couldn’t find for weeks

My books on Pagan subjects are mostly organized and I weeded out some fiction and non-fiction I can finally admit I will never get to. (Progress!) I also found my Book of Shadows under the bed, along with enough cat hair to make a new cat, and it’s safe and clean again.  It is truly a work in progress, even after all these years, it seems barely begun to me.  But there is progress there and, with this new BoS, some refinement at long last.  It is no longer so stumbling and embarrassing a document. Not that I truly beat myself up for being a newbie once and full of silly ideas, I’m sure most people go through that stage when they start on a similar path. 

Sorting through my clothes for duds is begun and I hope to finish before I must do something about dinner.  Not much time left for it, I guess, but I can still make a start.