Nothing like generational guilt and pent-up regret to ruin your weekend. I’ve spent the entire day shuffling through Mushrooms due to stress from being triggered into that old previous state of bending myself to the will of the family.
Friday afternoon I was added to a group text where we were all informed about the status of Non-na, Dread father‘s mom. Apparently, she is at a point where she is wishing for death, and she is refusing to care for herself. Honestly, I can’t blame her. At almost 90, if I just lost the person that I spent the past 70-ish years with had passed away I would want the exact same. Her dementia is also getting worse and she’s forgetting more and more every day. It seems she has some lucid days and some not. She isn’t in the worst physical health, but she also isn’t in the best health either. My aunt June is taking care of her right now, she’s Dread father’s youngest sister, Non-na’s youngest kid, and June said she’s not going to pass away tomorrow or anything.
Nothing like generational guilt and pent-up regret to ruin your weekend.
Before I get too far into this, let me give you the rundown of Non-na. Non-na is the wife of Pops, they’re the parents of Dread father. They have 3 children, Dread Father, aunt Blondie, and Aunt June. Aunt June has been taking care of Non-na and Pops for about a decade since Pops health had been declining. They live on June’s property about 8-9 hours away from me. Pops passed away last year, and we thought that Non-na would be ok for the most part. Obviously heartbroken and devastated, but she was quite independent, and we knew she could live without him, but he couldn’t live without her. Anyways, she did great for a short period of time while she lived with Aunt Blondie and when she moved back into her home at Aunt June’s.
Back when I was a kid, I vividly remember Mommy dearest telling me, frequently enough to know I heard it plenty to get it, that Non-na was a non-grandmother. She didn’t want to be a grandma type and didn’t want to take on that role. Why? No clue. She had made that decision when Mommy dearest brough Emily into the family. It was stated loud and clear that she was not that type of person, whether that was just for Emily or Mommy dearests’ kids, I’m not sure, but it was factual. I know that the dread sisters would beg to differ, seeing as how they all remember going out to Non-na and Pops farm for summers and having a blast with them. I remember stuff like that too, but I remember hanging out with Pops or doing my own thing, it was never with Non-na. The only time I spent with her was when I was watching her paint. That’s it.
I just sat there and made sure my kids didn’t get into shit they didn’t need to…
Even as an adult, there was no relationship between her and me. When we would go visit, my parents were the ones who had the conversations with her, I just sat there and made sure my kids didn’t get into shit they didn’t need to and held back tears for the pain I knew my pops was in. I’ve had one conversation with her; it was the last time I saw her back at thanksgiving before Pops passed. She brought me a couple of her photo albums with family photos that I had never seen before. Photographs of her side of the family. She then told me about how those photographs were hers; they were so-and-so and how they were related to her and told me a couple stories about them.
Then she showed me an album full of old school keepsakes from my Pops. Valentine’s cards from elementary school, his certificate for being on safety patrol, and so much more. She told me a little about those items too. But this was the first time in my life I said more to her than I would a passing stranger. Usually, it was basic small talk and catch up. How’s the kids? How’s the job? How’s your health? That was it. I have never connected to her, but I guess that’s the way she wanted it to be.
I have never connected to her, but I guess that’s the way she wanted it to be.
Anyway, I wanted to set that relationship dynamic up before I explain why I’m so torn up about going or not going. I feel obligated to go see her. I went to see my pops before he passed. I talked to him, told him to behave himself, I told him he was safe and loved and reminded him that it was ok for him to do whatever his body told him to. I know that it was highly unlikely that anyone had given him permission to go. There were many years that I heard so many people tell him not to say that he wanted to die. But when your entire life is in full body pain, when you can barely speak, you can’t lift your feet more than half an inch off the ground, your unable to take care of yourself, you have accidents and your youngest child has to clean you and you’re a prideful man, I get it. I get why he wanted to die. He spent so long in so much suffering and pain. He was miserable. He spent his painful bit of life in a tiny, shed conversion stuck in his recliner. I can’t imagine what that felt like.
I feel like I gave myself closure for Pops; I gave him something he might not have had from anyone else in the family. I feel like I’m obligated to do the same for Non-na. Like I have to go up there, sit in her tiny home, talk to her, listen to her, tell her I understand why she is angry her god hasn’t taken her yet. I feel the urge to tell her that I get why she is begging to go. If my person was gone, I’d want to go to. I’ve told Jamison so many times that he can’t go first. I won’t survive losing him. I feel the need to see her one more time before she goes so I can say goodbye.
I’ve told Jamison so many times that he can’t go first.
But there is so much that I feel is holding me from doing just that. I don’t want to see Aunt June. I don’t want to see my cousins. I don’t want to see my parents. I can’t see my parents. I’ve spent months recovering from the trauma that was breaking up with them. I am finally in a good place; I am finally at peace enough to be healing from older wounds. I also don’t know what I would even say to her. When we would visit, I wouldn’t say more than I love you and good to see you along with an obligatory hug. It was always forced too. Always was. There is so little I would get out of a conversation with her. Can I truly justify driving 8-9 hours just to see her face to face for 5 minutes for closure? Do I even need closure? Won’t a funeral be enough?
I’m so torn. It’s eating me alive. The obligations that were instilled in me are dying for me to go. The new patterns and neuropathways I’m forging are telling me it’s ok to send a text since she won’t answer a phone call. It’s hard to watch these two sides of me fight. I know which one will prevail, I know which one is correct, I know which one will hurt the most, and I know which one will be the only choice I truly have. All of those are the same one, just giving her a call or sending a text message. Saying goodbye to a loved one in a text message sounds so disgusting but it’s better than nothing at all, I guess.
Saying goodbye to a loved one in a text message sounds so disgusting but it’s better than nothing at all, I guess.
I hate that I know it’s not my fault for feeling this. I hate that I know she never wanted to be my grandmother. I hate knowing my last grandparent is dying. It’s solidifying that I will never ever have a grandparent love me the way so many people do. I don’t know why it’s so detrimental to me to have a grandparent who gives a shit, but it is. Maybe because when parents fail, grandparents step in and take over? I know my parents failed and maybe I need a grandparent to come in and save the day? Maybe I saw how much dread father changed for my kids over the years. Maybe it’s knowing how much of a loving relationship that Emily had with most of our grandparents and I didn’t have any of that. Maybe I am jealous of those who are around me who have such a connection with their grandparents, both now and while I was growing up as a child. Even hearing stories about my great-grandparents loving and doting on my parents. Knowing they had a grandparent who gave a fuck.
Maybe I thought grandparents were the default backup to your own parent. Or they were the ones in charge of your parents and could make them listen and do the right thing by their grandchildren.
I’ll never get that.
I’ll never know that now. I never knew it before. My grandparents never felt compelled to have a relationship with me either. I have neither my grandparents nor my parents for that matter.
That’s so fucking painful to admit out loud.
Why wasn’t I good enough for them?
Traumatized Viridimere 