Feeling One And The Same

 

Dear Grandma,

For a while, especially in these past three months, I started questioning which is the biggest challenge: moving through each day with the mask affixed or being in the moment and accepting that when grief (and the complexities therein) appears, to make space for being human.

I have had my share of challenges medically.

I sustained a strain near my right shoulder blade that required an urgent care visit and physical therapy. 

One of my bottom teeth cracked, and I had an infection. The tooth couldn't be saved, so they had to extract it. I opted for the bone graft due to the location of the missing tooth to get an implant early next year. Being on antibiotics twice and pain medication did no favors to my diabetes management. Neither did increasing perimenopausal symptoms or working through my grief.

After the breakdown in my communication with my endocrinologist, it has become obvious that he is unable to provide grace or compassionate care. Even as I'm researching to seek care elsewhere, the wall I'm hitting is that I don't meet the metrics (aka I'm not sick enough). Until I encounter an individual who cares less about the numbers and more about seeing me as a human being still battling my setbacks, I'll have to stay put for the time being.

I know that is disturbing because he's in the medical field where one should have those qualities toward their patients. It sucks that my optimistic view of humanity in the medical field is slowly dwindling.

I almost want to say, "These doctors don't know what they're talking about" (taking a line from your own book), and just do my own treatments. The profession is so overwhelmed that people are nothing but numbers and the doctors just want to get people in and out as soon as possible. 

I may dabble into doing just that.

All of this is just filler for what I really want to talk about.

I want to let you know that I understand now.

I understand the sadness in your eyes and the weight in your soul.  You hoped after Grandpa's passing that people would continue to show up for you like they showed up for him. It was sobering to discover that it wasn't the case, and this made Grandpa's passing more real. More unbearable. Brought home the loneliness.

Now that you and Grandpa are gone, I am experiencing these same emotions. The sadness upon reflection. The weight of the silence when the pain is great. The lack of reciprocity to check in with me, to see how I'm faring.

I didn't expect this from the extended family, but for those who always knew that you and Grandpa functioned as my parents ... if any of them wanted to step in to be that anchor or listening ear.

Perhaps they didn't want the responsibility.

Perhaps their own grief has consumed them.

Or, because of my own appearance of "strength and endurance", they didn't think I required additional support.

Grandma, I wanted someone to prove me wrong.

To prove to me that they wouldn't go back to business as usual. For one person, in particular, to show me that she could change and not make everything about her. This is her opportunity to step up and shine.

Be that person she always told me she could be.

I even opened up my accessibility. I made the way clear. I even reached out.

And yet ... little to no effort.

Same thing with some of my siblings. Too caught up with their own agendas and biases.

They have my contact information too.

You know me. I've never been one to chase connection. I'm not about to start doing it now.

I just pray there won't come a time when they are near the end of their lives to call for reconciliation.

Treat people right when you're alive, and you won't have to worry about where your soul goes once your body gives out.

That's the lesson I hold on to ... the lesson you and Grandpa instilled in me. To reserve movement based on observation does not indicate anger or resentment.

It's just what it is.

No more, no less.

❤