My grandpa died today. I'm writing this because I feel like something such as one's grandpa dying should be an important life event, one that should make me feel like writing in my blog. It does, but not because I'm grieving. It's sad that he died, but I can't say I'm mourning. Honestly, I'm doing nothing, feeling nothing.
And that's why I'm writing. Because sadder to me than his death is the fact that his passing really has no emotional effect on his grandchildren. Why? Because we never really knew him. I grew up less than 10 miles from him, and I've maybe seen the man a dozen times in my whole life. I think we got Christmas presents from him once or twice. He didn't come to my high school or college graduation, or any of my brothers' or sister's graduations. He also missed my brother's wedding, so it's not like I'm saddened by the fact that he won't see me get married--he probably wouldn't have anyway.
My grandpa left my grandma for another woman when my mom was four. My grandma says my mom doesn't even remember when he lived with them. After he left, he barely spent any time with my mom and uncle, but lavished attention and gifts on the other woman's children. When I was born, my mom told my dad not to bother calling my grandpa to let him know, because he'd barely acknowledged the birth of my older sister. A few years later, my mom saw him and he was talking excitedly about how his third wife's daughter was about to have a baby and about the rocking chair he was planning to give her. I can't even imagine how much that hurt her. I have in my apartment right now a dresser that my mom gave me; she made me promise her that if I ever didn't want it anymore I had to give it back to her, not get rid of it. My grandpa made it for her, and it was basically one of the few nice things he'd ever done for her.
I don't know yet when the funeral is, but I won't be driving or flying the 500 miles it would take to get there. I hold no ill-will to the man. He never did anything hurtful to me. He just never did anything. And that is what's sad. To have lived a life that leaves no impression, no feeling on those you should be closest to--that's a true tragedy.
- Misty
- "To see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower." William Blake
2 comments:
I have memories of my grandfather that are more precious to me than any money or worldly possessions. I was always his little girl, till the day he drew his last breath on his bed at home, surrounded by those who loved him. He made an impression, he made a difference. I can say the same thing about his wife, who is still around to love me unconditionally.
When my mom's mother dies, however, I will feel exactly the way you do now, empty. It's hard because you can't be furious at some old, sick (and in your grandfather's case now), dead person for mistakes they made before your birth, or when you were young. But at the same time, you can't mourn someone who you didn't know. Due to a choice that she made, my mom's mother has never laid her eyes on me.
When I was little, this really bothered me. I wrote her letters trying to get her to be a part of my life and they went unanswered. I remember sitting on the porch with Nana and Granddaddy crying because my other grandmother didn't love me. They wiped my tears and assured me that the crazy woman had no idea what she was missing and that they were sent to love me twice as much as other grandparents.
In your case, Misty, your grandmother has been everything a grandmother should be, a powerful, loving, steadfast influence in your life.
And your grandfather? He didn't know what he was missing.
It's sad when individuals decide their families are no longer important to them. My experience on the subject is positive. All of my grandparents, except my mom's mother, died before me or my siblings were born. My birthday was recently and my grandma sent a birthday card with $2 in it. This is something I know I can count on because she always sends a card and the same amount of money to all of her children and grandchildren. I try not to think about the day when I won't be getting that card anymore.
My mom told me her father, who died when she was 16, would have spoiled us rotten. She also says my father's parents, who both died within a year after mom and dad got married, would have done the same. I may never know for sure it this is true, but my parents continue to tell us stories about them. And I'll take those stories with me through my life and be grateful for the people they were because they gave me the parents I have today.
Post a Comment