Not such a spectacular title for a blog, but eh, it’s late. I’m tired. My day was long and it wasn’t nearly finished by the time I arrived home. I fed my cat, then caught the last rays of evening light to mow the jungle known as ‘the front yard’. Done that and prepared a very late supper, but I have something hanging over me like my personal little rain cloud I wish would go away.
In my last blog, “Congrats and…” I gave a shout out to my best friend who recently graduated.
When I arrived home, I got the strong notion there was a sense of anger projected at me from a long distance. My step-grandfather’s stirring up the ole’ crap pot again so I heard and its more tenacious than Bermuda grass. This intense sensation infiltrates my small cozy house with an overpowering bad vibe. If the plastic zipper bags containing my late grandma’s jewelry could weep, they likely would.
I had the daunting task of sorting through grandma’s articles with my mom, who wasn’t the least ready to go through such sad memories. I don’t blame her. Ever since my grandma passed away in March of this year, my step-grandfather has stirred the ‘crap’ pot in ways best forgotten. He’s never asked for forgiveness for cutting loose on me like he did the night she died. He said he was ‘sorry’ after the damage was done, but apologized to my brother’s wife. Since I didn’t hear anything from him personally, my step-grandfather’s apology means little to me. I hate to appear cold, but my step-grandfather said some spiteful, hurtful things to my face that caused my heart to shatter the night grandma passed away.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will
never hurt me…
And his bossing and ordering me around like a child made me lose my composure and fire back at him in my grief and shock. For once I found myself verbally standing up and not taking any crap-ola.
“This precious moment doesn’t include you. You see, this is just for immediate family only and you can go [to the reading of grandma’s will], but I don’t want you making decisions or speaking up. You just have to sit there and shut up.” came his angry reply.
I am an adult and I don’t have to stand for this! I thought.
I almost thought he was joking at first, but oh no, he was very serious. I still don’t know what set him off and it will be a mystery of the universe since he never explains why. I presume it was because I wore one of grandma’s cross necklaces and maybe that made him so livid because perhaps he wrongly thought I was there to take something of hers (which I wasn’t). I was there because he had told us we would discuss the funeral arrangements, etc. He did tell me moments before he got mad at me for no reason I could wear the necklace, by the way. I asked permission.
I had every intention to return the necklace the same day of the funeral. My mother was livid that he just cut loose on me, jumped on her next, bossed us around and demanded I remove grandma’s cross necklace and give it back. So, I did. What hurt my feelings more than finding out he’s nothing but an Indian-giver, was him making a complete *** out of himself. Oh, and his temper his highly unpredictable and you never know who he’ll get mad at next. He’s like night and day and its gotten progressively worse. Health-wise, he probably isn’t doing well. He’s got diabetes that goes unmonitored. I suspect he’s suffering the onset of a mental decline by the way he acts, what he says and then doesn’t remember ever saying anything hurtful or mean.
It was going on two hours after my grandma passed away when this incident occurred, mind you, dear reader, he didn’t care that I watched her die in Hospice. It enraged him to no end that I talked back and wouldn’t take any of his crap or be ordered around like a child. I also wouldn’t consider being left out because grandma didn’t want anybody in the family excluded from her funeral arrangements. My step-grandfather totally overrides her last wishes.
“I just watched grandma die tonight and she hasn’t been gone for nearly two hours! Why are you doing this to me–to us?!”
Long story short, mom and I left that early morning by 4 am in tears the night my grandma passed away. I was beyond exhausted and the biting words from my step-grandfather rang in my ears, stung at the very fabric of my being, gnawing at me, keeping me awake.
I needed something to far remove me from my current state of shock, sadness– perhaps even hopelessness. I just lost my last pen pal, my grandmother. I dug through my storage container under my bed. Tucked inside were a stack of old music magazines from the 80s-early 90s.
Maybe I was being selfish– I don’t know.
Yes, I was on purpose finding that familiar escape from reality and extreme grief. I flipped through the colorful photographs. Young faces looked back at me– familiar ones I once oohhed and awed over when I was a teenager. I knew I wouldn’t find any answers lurking in those outdated pages to as to why my step-grandfather was acting like such a…
Well, I don’t remember when I fell asleep, but did for a great long time. When I woke up, I was deep in the bones exhausted. It took me a long while to get back on schedule after my grandma passed away.
I don’t deserve to remember my grandma through her clothes and jewelry, I remind myself even though she would have wanted the grand kids to have something to remember her by. I just got done hauling off three bags of my own clothes to donation yesterday that no longer fit me. I’m not even quite sure I want to remember grandma by clinging to such sad memories saturating her personal effects.
I think I will sleep on it. Lord knows I want to put the unpleasant memories of this day behind me.