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Dear Grandma,
I know that you always say, "Do the best you can." What happens when doing the best you can doesn't feel like enough?
Did you ever tell anyone when it didn't?
Or did you carry it around, confiding only with God?
Did you ever get angry? Did you ever wish Grandpa took some of the mental load?
Did you ever get tired of figuring it out, of "making a way out of no way"?
Did you ever look at your children and have complicated feelings ... why some help without question while others asked lots of questions, yet still offered no help?
I tried to write this in one of my notebooks, but my arthritis is acting up. I figured it would be better and more coherent (my "neat" writing isn't as decipherable as before) in this fashion.
I know how you are about "outsiders being in business", but in this world, sadly, the attention span of people has declined significantly. I doubt people will stick around to even read about this "business", much less discover this blog ... nestled in the folds of my other writings.
Heck, people barely read these days.
Now ... what was I saying?
Yeah, how did you do it all without it becoming all-consuming and driving you to madness or depression? Or were you going through these issues, and I just didn't see or feel it?
Perhaps, you were great at "kicking the can down the road" and being present and taking time to tackle problems later.
Grandma, it is a struggle for me to be mindful. I know it has to do with the experiences of the past. I've been burned by so many people that I liked, cared for, respected, loved, and trusted.
You told people not to make a fool out of me; I did the best I could. I did go into situations believing the best in people; it seemed too exhausting to accuse everyone of being disingenuous and a fraud. At times, I wonder if I would have been saved from some circumstances if I had been as skeptical and discerning then as I am now.
Being a survivor of abuse has me on some form of alert. I'm not saying it's high alert (Code Red) frequently, but it's rare to have a day where I am not ... heightened. I am doing the best I can to shake it ... it's difficult.
I know the negative rhetoric as it pertains to therapy in our family. It ranges from relying heavily on God ... to therapy being for other races and ethnicities ... to perceiving it as permitting strangers to pass judgment on our lives. I do understand all of those viewpoints.
Yet, being in therapy has been incredibly helpful for me. I am learning to find and utilize my voice more in difficult situations. I understand more about why I do what I do, and what works and doesn't work.
I know your spirit is near me but I miss your voice. Even if you couldn't solve the problem, you would provide some laughs to take my mind off the problem.
I have many emotions I am dealing with. I know it does no good to place blame, yet I cannot help but feel certain things should have been handled better. Yet, that is what happens when the glue (the person who always figures things out) is not in a position to provide guidance to others.
Grandpa was the shiny car; you were the engine that kept the car running.
Dealing with your loss on one side and holding up the household on the other side, right now, feels too heavy. Can I really pass it on without setting up another fire to be put out?
From my recollection, Grandpa liked things pretty straightforward. I know my process is straightforward to me but may be complex to others. I just don't want to revisit strategies that have failed in the past.
Perhaps by talking to you in this way ... working through my grief ... a way will be shown to me. Until then, I'll continue to do the best that I can.
Why? Because that's all I can do.
Happy Easter.
