I am about to do something revolutionary in my own life. I am going to officially post something about me and my Ex. Let me explain why this is such a big deal...
I met Andrew at Eastern Oregon University. We lived in the same dorms, and had some of the same friends. We very quickly became great friends. It was college and we were young, flirty, horney people. We had both recently broken up with our partners. We went on a friendly road trip and ended up kissing. It didn't take too many days before the kissing lead to more. We remained very good friends, and started calling ourselves a couple. Eventually some dorm drama cause us to move out into an apartment. We kinda started our lives together at that moment.
While working and going to school, we grew up a bit. After not too long my grandma died. I was depressed and decided not to stay in school. I was going to be moving away from town. I told Andrew he didn't have to go with me, but he made the choice to stick together. So we both got jobs and worked hard and lived our lives. We got engaged and things went on. We were best friends. We spent everyday together and loved every moment of it. We were young and stupid too. Turns out marrying your best friend doesn't work in all contexts.
I married with my head more that my heart, He is an attractive, emotionally strong and honest man. He is a great father. Smart, full of adventure, loyal and loving, Andrew is a very good catch. Other girls were actually jealous of me having Andrew. I had never made other girls jealous. I knew I had a great man at my side. I didn't want to let him go. It is important to note here that I did and do love him very very much. But love is not everything in a relationship.
As time passed Andrew and I drifted apart sexually. We stayed close, the rest just wasn't there. I have become aware over time that it was more me than him. I feel like I need to acknowledge that. I drifted away from him. When we kissed it felt like I was kissing my brother. So naturally, kissing was the first thing to go. At some point we decided to have sex, after a few drinks, and we were lazy with birth control. We got pregnant. Once we knew we were pregnant we talked about it and decided why not spend our lives together. We are happy living together. So we got married. Along came baby. Life was fine. We were mommy and daddy, the new titles suit us well. It took a long time before we remembered there were issues between us. We had plenty of reasons for not being sexual... breastfeeding, tired, baby in the room, etc.
Time passed and our little one had grown up a bit. We started to feel the sting of an incomplete relationship again. I must admit once again the sting was felt more by me than Andrew. So we did what any reasonable couple would do... we tried to replicate the thing that brought us together for the previous 3 years haha... we had another baby.
It didn't work this time. Shortly after our second baby came we moved away from the tricities. I had got promoted at work and needed to live in Yakima. When we were there our lives were put on hold. Andrew was a stay at home dad and I turned into a major work-a-holic. We began to discuss changing our lives. Why were we so unhappy? What were we missing? After a lot of difficult honest talks we realized we love each other very deeply, but that our relationship was not working. We also realized we hated Yakima and needed to move.
So we moved to Vancouver. When we moved we got a place that has 3 bedrooms. For the last 2 years Andrew has had his own room. We still talk. We still do stuff as a family. We still love each other very much. But we consider ourselves separated. I have pursued other men, and Andrew has pursued other women. We live our lives together yet separate. We are best friends. We are still married. It is easier to be married and to live together. The cost of maintaining two households is ridiculous and not necessary at this point.
Sometimes we have talked as though we will stay together. Sometimes we talk as though we are already divorced. It is confusing, difficult, and I wouldn't trade it in for anything. Our kids are happy, loved, secure, content. They know mom and dad are there for them. It is nice to all be under the same roof.
This is my first post about this issue ever (even though it has been 2 years since we separated) because Andrews family are not all as forgiving as we would like. It is understandable for sure, but we know that once we say we are separated to them there will be major drama. Drama that can not be undone. So we keep it to ourselves. Our friends know, my family knows, even people I work with know.
The hardest part is when I talk about Andrew to other people I don't know what to call him. To say oh my husband.... gives mixed messages. To say my Ex feel weird too because we still live together. Ex seems so final... yet there he is in my daily life, and happily so. I have taken to calling him my Andrew. Mostly because I don't know what to say.
So live goes on. Me and my Andrew and our kids. One happy little family. One day at a time. Who knows what the future will bring? We may end up staying together out of laziness, dating is hard you know. Or perhaps we will find our soul mates and move on to more separate lives. Either way I am certain we will always be friends. I am the luckiest person on Earth.
(This story takes place from 2001-2012)
Friday, May 18, 2012
Thursday, May 17, 2012
You Cant Choose Your Family
Many people over time have said those words. "You can't choose your family". I disagree whole heartedly.
Family: noun
Family: noun
1. a social unit consisting of one or more adults together with the children they care for: a single-parent family.
2. any group of persons closely related by blood, as parents, children, uncles, aunts, and cousins
3. a group of related things or people: the family of romantic poets; the halogen family of elements.
4. a group of people who are generally not blood relations but who share common attitudes, interests, or goals and, frequently, live together: Many hippie communes of the sixties regarded themselves as families.
I think it is interesting that there are more than 15 definitions for the word family. That along supports my point. In my humble opinion a family is a group of people who are bonded by a strong loyal connection. In my case our family is complicated.
I have my immediate family which is made up of my two children and my ex husband. I have my extended family which includes my mom, her husband and his 3 sons. I also have my aunt and my three cousins. Most of us are connected by marriage. The only blood ties are with my children, and my mom. That is irrelevant information though. We are a close knit fiercely loyal group that would fight for each other till the end. We have slowly assimilated other people into our mix. Some by marriage, or by dating, and some people just hang around long enough we forget there is no blood tie.
To belong to such a circle is an incredible feeling. I am never really alone. I know if a need presents itself, all will work out. I am loved and supported. I have people to fight with, people to grow with, and people to comfort. I am needed as much as I have need.
Something happened this last weekend that made me re-evaluate the value and presence of my family in my life. Someone got married... and there was drama!
My Cousin Melinda and I are very good friends, and basically sisters. We lived together during some of the more challenging teenage years. At the time it was uncomfortable... now I'm happy things happened the way they did. We are very close. Her brother Howie also lived with us. He was always much more quiet than both of us. To a large degree he faded into the back ground. Sad really. But Melinda and I love Howie! In my younger adult years I lived with Howie and his mom again and Howie and I formed a really deep bond during that time that has only grown as the years have passed. Melinda and I live in Vancouver Washington. Howie lives back home in Tricities Washington. We don't see him nearly as much as we want to.
Melinda and I go out sometimes and it is funny but one of the things we talk about when we drink is how awesome our family ties are. That once we let people in our circle we will fight to the death for them, but it takes work to get into that circle for most people. Until this last weekend I didn't realize how quick we were to discriminate against people we didn't deem worthy of our connection. We bestowed it upon people as though it were a gift. To some degree it is a gift, I mean having people there who will never turn you away has value, the self sacrifice and pure loyal devotion we share is hard to match. However, I realized that in a few cases we judged too sharply.
Howie got married this last weekend. His wedding was beautiful. This was my first time meeting his new wife. I had mixed and tainted first impressions of her based on facebook, and the anxiety the rest of my family was feeling about the union. Failed marriages run in our family. Some end well some end terribly, but so far, they have all ended. Knowing that it is hard to fully support a young couple in taking the plunge, especially when one of them is your cousin/brother whom you love dearly.
Thinking back to my own marriage, I know I made people in Andrews family anxious. They most certainly had no idea what to do with me. Those small town Walla Walla folks meeting this outspoken, brightly colored Cali girl! I was greedy with Andrews attention. I wanted him to myself, and I made it clear to those around me. I had so few real connections in my life, I didn't want him to leave me. I was afraid. I was immature. I was selfish. Andrew chose me and his family lost him for awhile, because they made him choose.
So the days leading up to the union of my cousin and his new wife had a bit of drama mixed in. I will spare you the details only because it was not my drama to share. When it was all over and people told me what happened and how it felt, all I could hear in their words was "this is what you did to Andrews family". So I have realized that Kayla, my new cousin-in-law, was not invited into the family the way some other people were. She is young, and wants Howie to herself, I don't think she has been given a chance to see the value in the family she just married into. A family that when I told them I was separated from my husband, they asked if they were still allowed to hang out with him, because he is family now.
So I cant change anyones opinion, I think time and maturity will do that on its own. But I can extend an olive branch. As far as I am concerned Kayla is family now. She is in the circle. Because Howie deems her worth it and I trust Howie. So my intention is to whole heartedly treat her the way I treat everyone else in our circle. I look forward to getting to know her better, and growing the bonds of this amazing unit of quirky, imperfect, wonderfully sarcastic, splendidly mismatched group that I call my family. I realized that I CAN choose my family.
Welcome Kayla!
I have my immediate family which is made up of my two children and my ex husband. I have my extended family which includes my mom, her husband and his 3 sons. I also have my aunt and my three cousins. Most of us are connected by marriage. The only blood ties are with my children, and my mom. That is irrelevant information though. We are a close knit fiercely loyal group that would fight for each other till the end. We have slowly assimilated other people into our mix. Some by marriage, or by dating, and some people just hang around long enough we forget there is no blood tie.
To belong to such a circle is an incredible feeling. I am never really alone. I know if a need presents itself, all will work out. I am loved and supported. I have people to fight with, people to grow with, and people to comfort. I am needed as much as I have need.
Something happened this last weekend that made me re-evaluate the value and presence of my family in my life. Someone got married... and there was drama!
My Cousin Melinda and I are very good friends, and basically sisters. We lived together during some of the more challenging teenage years. At the time it was uncomfortable... now I'm happy things happened the way they did. We are very close. Her brother Howie also lived with us. He was always much more quiet than both of us. To a large degree he faded into the back ground. Sad really. But Melinda and I love Howie! In my younger adult years I lived with Howie and his mom again and Howie and I formed a really deep bond during that time that has only grown as the years have passed. Melinda and I live in Vancouver Washington. Howie lives back home in Tricities Washington. We don't see him nearly as much as we want to.
Melinda and I go out sometimes and it is funny but one of the things we talk about when we drink is how awesome our family ties are. That once we let people in our circle we will fight to the death for them, but it takes work to get into that circle for most people. Until this last weekend I didn't realize how quick we were to discriminate against people we didn't deem worthy of our connection. We bestowed it upon people as though it were a gift. To some degree it is a gift, I mean having people there who will never turn you away has value, the self sacrifice and pure loyal devotion we share is hard to match. However, I realized that in a few cases we judged too sharply.
Howie got married this last weekend. His wedding was beautiful. This was my first time meeting his new wife. I had mixed and tainted first impressions of her based on facebook, and the anxiety the rest of my family was feeling about the union. Failed marriages run in our family. Some end well some end terribly, but so far, they have all ended. Knowing that it is hard to fully support a young couple in taking the plunge, especially when one of them is your cousin/brother whom you love dearly.
Thinking back to my own marriage, I know I made people in Andrews family anxious. They most certainly had no idea what to do with me. Those small town Walla Walla folks meeting this outspoken, brightly colored Cali girl! I was greedy with Andrews attention. I wanted him to myself, and I made it clear to those around me. I had so few real connections in my life, I didn't want him to leave me. I was afraid. I was immature. I was selfish. Andrew chose me and his family lost him for awhile, because they made him choose.
So the days leading up to the union of my cousin and his new wife had a bit of drama mixed in. I will spare you the details only because it was not my drama to share. When it was all over and people told me what happened and how it felt, all I could hear in their words was "this is what you did to Andrews family". So I have realized that Kayla, my new cousin-in-law, was not invited into the family the way some other people were. She is young, and wants Howie to herself, I don't think she has been given a chance to see the value in the family she just married into. A family that when I told them I was separated from my husband, they asked if they were still allowed to hang out with him, because he is family now.
So I cant change anyones opinion, I think time and maturity will do that on its own. But I can extend an olive branch. As far as I am concerned Kayla is family now. She is in the circle. Because Howie deems her worth it and I trust Howie. So my intention is to whole heartedly treat her the way I treat everyone else in our circle. I look forward to getting to know her better, and growing the bonds of this amazing unit of quirky, imperfect, wonderfully sarcastic, splendidly mismatched group that I call my family. I realized that I CAN choose my family.
Welcome Kayla!
(This story takes place in 2012)
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
To Fear or Not to Fear
Fear: noun. a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid. Synonyms: foreboding, apprehension, dismay, dread, terror, fright, panic, horror, trepidation, qualm. Antonyms: courage, security, calm, intrepidity.
Failure: noun. an act or instance of failing or proving unsuccessful; lack of success
Everyone is afraid of failing. It is human nature to be driven towards success. If it were not, our place on Earth would be much different. When it comes to the actual rate of failure we experience in our lives, one of the most important factors is fear. Actually more specifically, how we deal with that fear. A lot of people are their own worst enemy.
Like everyone else, I do not want to fail. Sometimes I am paralyzed by the fear that if I try to accomplish something big, or spectacular I will not be able to succeed. When I was a teenager my motto was something along the lines of "give up before you try". That is a horrid way to live. I was so afraid that I would fail that I would give up just in case.
I have always been an adaptable person. I learn fast, and I generally stand out quick as some one who has potential. What tends to happen is that I become known as a rising star. This can be taken into different contexts. That is what people see happening. Inside I am anxious and doubting. I have a tendency to not believe in myself. Any shadow of evidence supporting any slight possibility of failure and I would quit. My thinking was that if I quit before I failed there would have always been a chance that I could have done it. If I try as hard as I can, put everything I have got into something, and then I fail... That is a deep true failure.
That is how the old me thought.
Over the years I have learned to face that fear and doubt. I worked my way up inside a large company. I had many opportunities to show my strengths, and to grow them. I have also had many chances to fail. In my current job, and in my current life, I have come to see that the only true failure is giving up on yourself. If we decide before we try that we are going to fail... we will be very good at failing!
I have had a few moments in my recent life that have scared me almost enough to run away. I stood fast and allowed myself some grace. It all worked out.
The job I work now allows for a lot of community connection and charity style work. It is a business so there is an expectation for a mutually beneficial partnership, but I have a lot of freedom with in that context. I have decided to use this freedom to start a reading program. The restaurant I work at is going to reward children who live in our area by giving them free treats for the books they read, every 5 books earns you the next tier prize. I have partnered with the local school district and they are going to give out flyers to all the students in 6 schools at each level. Those people will be driven into my store to redeem their prizes. I will also be contributing to the literacy of our next generation. Instead of spending the entire summer playing video games a few kids will read, and intellectually grow! That is very exciting.
I am new to this sort of planning. I have had to do a lot of learning during the planning process. There were several moments that I had to pause and reflect. I became afraid I would fail. I was worried people wouldn't participate. I worried the connections I had made would fall apart. I didn't want to let anyone down, including myself. So I nearly stopped. I almost let enough time pass that the program wouldn't have happened. I stopped myself. I am not that person anymore. I will not be my own worst enemy. I gritted my teeth and pushed on. I reached out to people for help and I did it. I have put together a summer long reading program.
We will be taking donations for a local book bank that will refurbish the books and distribute them to kids in need. We will be hosting library partnership nights to allow the library system to raise money and awareness for propositions coming up. We will host partnerships with the schools in the area to raise money to help support programs that were hurt by budget cuts. Best of all we will positively reward children for spending their time reading. We will be passing on the gift of literacy, and preparing our future leaders for tomorrow!
Also important is my learning on how to coordinate these types of programs. Now I can create and sustain future opportunities.
This is all secondary to the fact that I fought my fear and was able to grow into a stronger individual. By allowing myself some grace I will help many people in the future. My strength will be their strength... THAT is worth fighting for!
(This story took place 2012)
Failure: noun. an act or instance of failing or proving unsuccessful; lack of success
Everyone is afraid of failing. It is human nature to be driven towards success. If it were not, our place on Earth would be much different. When it comes to the actual rate of failure we experience in our lives, one of the most important factors is fear. Actually more specifically, how we deal with that fear. A lot of people are their own worst enemy.
Like everyone else, I do not want to fail. Sometimes I am paralyzed by the fear that if I try to accomplish something big, or spectacular I will not be able to succeed. When I was a teenager my motto was something along the lines of "give up before you try". That is a horrid way to live. I was so afraid that I would fail that I would give up just in case.
I have always been an adaptable person. I learn fast, and I generally stand out quick as some one who has potential. What tends to happen is that I become known as a rising star. This can be taken into different contexts. That is what people see happening. Inside I am anxious and doubting. I have a tendency to not believe in myself. Any shadow of evidence supporting any slight possibility of failure and I would quit. My thinking was that if I quit before I failed there would have always been a chance that I could have done it. If I try as hard as I can, put everything I have got into something, and then I fail... That is a deep true failure.
That is how the old me thought.
Over the years I have learned to face that fear and doubt. I worked my way up inside a large company. I had many opportunities to show my strengths, and to grow them. I have also had many chances to fail. In my current job, and in my current life, I have come to see that the only true failure is giving up on yourself. If we decide before we try that we are going to fail... we will be very good at failing!
I have had a few moments in my recent life that have scared me almost enough to run away. I stood fast and allowed myself some grace. It all worked out.
The job I work now allows for a lot of community connection and charity style work. It is a business so there is an expectation for a mutually beneficial partnership, but I have a lot of freedom with in that context. I have decided to use this freedom to start a reading program. The restaurant I work at is going to reward children who live in our area by giving them free treats for the books they read, every 5 books earns you the next tier prize. I have partnered with the local school district and they are going to give out flyers to all the students in 6 schools at each level. Those people will be driven into my store to redeem their prizes. I will also be contributing to the literacy of our next generation. Instead of spending the entire summer playing video games a few kids will read, and intellectually grow! That is very exciting.
I am new to this sort of planning. I have had to do a lot of learning during the planning process. There were several moments that I had to pause and reflect. I became afraid I would fail. I was worried people wouldn't participate. I worried the connections I had made would fall apart. I didn't want to let anyone down, including myself. So I nearly stopped. I almost let enough time pass that the program wouldn't have happened. I stopped myself. I am not that person anymore. I will not be my own worst enemy. I gritted my teeth and pushed on. I reached out to people for help and I did it. I have put together a summer long reading program.
We will be taking donations for a local book bank that will refurbish the books and distribute them to kids in need. We will be hosting library partnership nights to allow the library system to raise money and awareness for propositions coming up. We will host partnerships with the schools in the area to raise money to help support programs that were hurt by budget cuts. Best of all we will positively reward children for spending their time reading. We will be passing on the gift of literacy, and preparing our future leaders for tomorrow!
Also important is my learning on how to coordinate these types of programs. Now I can create and sustain future opportunities.
This is all secondary to the fact that I fought my fear and was able to grow into a stronger individual. By allowing myself some grace I will help many people in the future. My strength will be their strength... THAT is worth fighting for!
(This story took place 2012)
Monday, May 7, 2012
The light in the family
I have this picture of Thanksgiving dinner, I was probably 16. Now everyone, other than me, in that picture has died.
Everyone has baggage. Alot of mine comes in the way of un-reconciled grief. One by one my family died off. I was left behind. There was a moment after my brother died that I was actually jealous. I was upset that my little brother got to find out what happens when you die before me. That is not to say I was or am suicidal. Its not about that. Its just a way of working out these feelings.
I want to tell you about the people who are in that picture. Tonight I am going to tell you about my grandma Nelson. She was a kooky sort of woman, but the good kind of kooky.
When she was younger she married a man and had two kids. The man she married literally turned out to be crazy. He was schizophrenic. He got committed. She got a divorce. So here she is in the 1950's two kids and a divorce under her belt. Then she met my grandpa. My grandpa had not started a family yet and took her and her kids in, even though to do so was concidered taboo. They got married and started a home and family together. Then they had my dad.
My grandpa died when I was in kindergarten. I don't remember much about him, but one things I have come to learn is that he may not have been a very nice man all of the time. He was abusive, more verbally than physically. After he died my grandma kept the house that they had got together. In the back yard there was a smaller house, we actually still to this day call it the little house, they built that house for my dad and mom to move into when they got married. So I literally grew up on the same property as my dad.
Eventually we moved away. My parents separated and my dad got custody of us kids. My dad was an alcoholic drug dealer. He left us alone alot. My grandma used to come around and buy us food, school clothes, shampoo. All of those things people take for granted. She made sure we were safe, but also in her own way enabled my dad to be absent.
Eventually a chance to buy a house on the same street as my grandmas house, which had belonged to my grandpas brother, came around. My grandma bought it and took over ownership. She called it my dads house and let us all move in. Looking back I think it was easier for her to be sure we were safe that close to her home. I know she did late night drive bys and such.
My dad was not good at paying bills and so it was very common for the power, water, phones and so on to be out. My dad being into drugs and such had alot of late night visitors. Some of those visitors were... creepy. One night at like 3AM I got tired of the creepy influx of people and I walked up the street to my grandmas house. I knocked on her door and asked her if I could spend the night. She let me in. I slept in my aunts old room. It still had alot of her things in it.
I never really left. Slowly I gathered my things from my dads house and one night turned into 4 years. After a year or two my grandma came into my room and gave me a key to the house. She never said a word, just handed me the key. There was an understanding in that moment. I was safe.
It was very hard to live with grandma. My dad and brother were so reckless, I was a good kid. Perfect attendance straight A's, no drugs, no alcohol... the most acting out I ever did was to insist on going to the Rocky Horror Picture Show, which my grandma was convinced made me a lesbian hahahahah. Because I respected her, in my own way, I did what she asked me to do. I never used the phrase "your not my mom" and I asked her permission to hangout with friends. She didn't allow me to hang out more than once a week for a long time. She felt it was excessive to do more. Eventually she trusted me and the people I hung out with enough to let me go.
She took out on me her anxieties about my brother and my dad. And I did the same to her. I said things to her in my teen years that it makes me blush to think about now. But once the rage passed we never spoke about those moments. There was an understanding, again, that I was safe.
My grandma gave me allowance, and even gave my friends rides to school. She was involved with my homework, all those things parents do. I took every moment of it for granted. She and I had sleeping issues. Sometimes we would sit up late at night and talk. She was a story teller. I guess I learned from her.
Then came the summer I turned 16. I moved to Washington state. I moved to my moms house. I called my grandma almost daily. I didn't realize how important she had been until I moved away. When I got to college I started buying silly cards and sending them to her for no reason. Just to say hello. I would imagine her face when she would sift through the pile of bills and find a special little letter from me. That felt important.
The first winter I was dating the man who would become my husband, I got this strange feeling it would be her last Christmas. I flew down and brought him with me. I put up an old fashioned Christmas. I wrapped a bunch of silly things and made cookies and everything. I suprised her with a real tree and a special dinner. She hadnt had a chance to really go Christmas shopping, but I made the holiday about her for once. My grandma opened tons of presents and had a wonderful time. It was nice.
I turned out to be correct about it being her last Christmas.
One night I woke up at like 3 am and I decided in that moment I needed to move to California. It was an intense and impulsive feeling. A need. I woke my boyfriend and explained we had to go, or he could stay, but I was moving. I called my grandma, who wouldn't have normally been awake, to tell her I was coming down. The phone rang a couple times and she answered. To my surprise she was wide awake. I told her I wanted to come down and she told me she wished I had come down sooner. She had been trying to convince me for a long time to move back and I resisted. I lied about how happy I was to get her to drop the subject. Turns out she was very sick. She had been preparing to go in for a major heart surgery. She had wanted me to come down to help her recover, but had decided not to tell me about it because I seemed so happy and she didn't want to burden me with that sort of news. She told me to stay in school, to stay happy in my life. She also told me I was the light in the family. I was the reason we could all stick together all those years.
We had a long talk and I hung up. Three days later she went in for a triple heart bypass surgery. She never woke up. She fell into a coma that lasted 10 days, then her body gave out.
I drove down for the funeral. I refused to view the body. I remembered my grandma healthy and my last memories of her will always be of that last Christmas next to the fireplace, and of those imagined images of her checking the mail and receiving my cards.
My grandma was beloved by many. But my Aunt lied about when her funeral was. It was a terrible things to do. It caused alot of tension and I left town angry. It has been 10 years and I have only been back twice.
I miss my grandma. Sometimes I feel like I let her down. I never finished college. I dropped out due to depression not too long after she died. But over all I think she would be proud, I didn't turn out like my dad. I have integrity, and manners, and respect. I am who I am because she didn't give up on me. So now I choose not to give up on me either. So here is to a long journey!
(this story took place around 2002)
Everyone has baggage. Alot of mine comes in the way of un-reconciled grief. One by one my family died off. I was left behind. There was a moment after my brother died that I was actually jealous. I was upset that my little brother got to find out what happens when you die before me. That is not to say I was or am suicidal. Its not about that. Its just a way of working out these feelings.
I want to tell you about the people who are in that picture. Tonight I am going to tell you about my grandma Nelson. She was a kooky sort of woman, but the good kind of kooky.
When she was younger she married a man and had two kids. The man she married literally turned out to be crazy. He was schizophrenic. He got committed. She got a divorce. So here she is in the 1950's two kids and a divorce under her belt. Then she met my grandpa. My grandpa had not started a family yet and took her and her kids in, even though to do so was concidered taboo. They got married and started a home and family together. Then they had my dad.
My grandpa died when I was in kindergarten. I don't remember much about him, but one things I have come to learn is that he may not have been a very nice man all of the time. He was abusive, more verbally than physically. After he died my grandma kept the house that they had got together. In the back yard there was a smaller house, we actually still to this day call it the little house, they built that house for my dad and mom to move into when they got married. So I literally grew up on the same property as my dad.
Eventually we moved away. My parents separated and my dad got custody of us kids. My dad was an alcoholic drug dealer. He left us alone alot. My grandma used to come around and buy us food, school clothes, shampoo. All of those things people take for granted. She made sure we were safe, but also in her own way enabled my dad to be absent.
Eventually a chance to buy a house on the same street as my grandmas house, which had belonged to my grandpas brother, came around. My grandma bought it and took over ownership. She called it my dads house and let us all move in. Looking back I think it was easier for her to be sure we were safe that close to her home. I know she did late night drive bys and such.
My dad was not good at paying bills and so it was very common for the power, water, phones and so on to be out. My dad being into drugs and such had alot of late night visitors. Some of those visitors were... creepy. One night at like 3AM I got tired of the creepy influx of people and I walked up the street to my grandmas house. I knocked on her door and asked her if I could spend the night. She let me in. I slept in my aunts old room. It still had alot of her things in it.
I never really left. Slowly I gathered my things from my dads house and one night turned into 4 years. After a year or two my grandma came into my room and gave me a key to the house. She never said a word, just handed me the key. There was an understanding in that moment. I was safe.
It was very hard to live with grandma. My dad and brother were so reckless, I was a good kid. Perfect attendance straight A's, no drugs, no alcohol... the most acting out I ever did was to insist on going to the Rocky Horror Picture Show, which my grandma was convinced made me a lesbian hahahahah. Because I respected her, in my own way, I did what she asked me to do. I never used the phrase "your not my mom" and I asked her permission to hangout with friends. She didn't allow me to hang out more than once a week for a long time. She felt it was excessive to do more. Eventually she trusted me and the people I hung out with enough to let me go.
She took out on me her anxieties about my brother and my dad. And I did the same to her. I said things to her in my teen years that it makes me blush to think about now. But once the rage passed we never spoke about those moments. There was an understanding, again, that I was safe.
My grandma gave me allowance, and even gave my friends rides to school. She was involved with my homework, all those things parents do. I took every moment of it for granted. She and I had sleeping issues. Sometimes we would sit up late at night and talk. She was a story teller. I guess I learned from her.
Then came the summer I turned 16. I moved to Washington state. I moved to my moms house. I called my grandma almost daily. I didn't realize how important she had been until I moved away. When I got to college I started buying silly cards and sending them to her for no reason. Just to say hello. I would imagine her face when she would sift through the pile of bills and find a special little letter from me. That felt important.
The first winter I was dating the man who would become my husband, I got this strange feeling it would be her last Christmas. I flew down and brought him with me. I put up an old fashioned Christmas. I wrapped a bunch of silly things and made cookies and everything. I suprised her with a real tree and a special dinner. She hadnt had a chance to really go Christmas shopping, but I made the holiday about her for once. My grandma opened tons of presents and had a wonderful time. It was nice.
I turned out to be correct about it being her last Christmas.
One night I woke up at like 3 am and I decided in that moment I needed to move to California. It was an intense and impulsive feeling. A need. I woke my boyfriend and explained we had to go, or he could stay, but I was moving. I called my grandma, who wouldn't have normally been awake, to tell her I was coming down. The phone rang a couple times and she answered. To my surprise she was wide awake. I told her I wanted to come down and she told me she wished I had come down sooner. She had been trying to convince me for a long time to move back and I resisted. I lied about how happy I was to get her to drop the subject. Turns out she was very sick. She had been preparing to go in for a major heart surgery. She had wanted me to come down to help her recover, but had decided not to tell me about it because I seemed so happy and she didn't want to burden me with that sort of news. She told me to stay in school, to stay happy in my life. She also told me I was the light in the family. I was the reason we could all stick together all those years.
We had a long talk and I hung up. Three days later she went in for a triple heart bypass surgery. She never woke up. She fell into a coma that lasted 10 days, then her body gave out.
I drove down for the funeral. I refused to view the body. I remembered my grandma healthy and my last memories of her will always be of that last Christmas next to the fireplace, and of those imagined images of her checking the mail and receiving my cards.
My grandma was beloved by many. But my Aunt lied about when her funeral was. It was a terrible things to do. It caused alot of tension and I left town angry. It has been 10 years and I have only been back twice.
I miss my grandma. Sometimes I feel like I let her down. I never finished college. I dropped out due to depression not too long after she died. But over all I think she would be proud, I didn't turn out like my dad. I have integrity, and manners, and respect. I am who I am because she didn't give up on me. So now I choose not to give up on me either. So here is to a long journey!
(this story took place around 2002)
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