My grandfather died yesterday.
He was in his 90's. I can't remember exactly how old he was.
I'm sad but not in the way you would expect.
My grandfather was not a nice person. He was abusive towards my father for all of his life, and he tried to be emotionally abusive to my sister and me. (Mom would interfere and stop that.)
I can't say I have many great memories with him. He let his fear of being inadequate guide his life and thoughts into racism, etc.
He wasn't a nice person. He wasn't fun to be around.
And in many ways, I think, this is what's the saddest. He lived for over 90 years, and I cannot say, "He was happy." I cannot say, "He lived a good life." Or even, "His life was never dull."
I can't say any of those things. He never seemed happy. He had two sons, and he was always putting them down. He had two grandchildren and he could never remember one of their birthdays. The only reason he could remember the other's birthday was because it was the same day as his favourite cousin's birthday.
I can't say he had a good life.
And that is the saddest part of it all.
2 comments:
my step grandfather was a similarly miserable character himself. i knew of his early life only through his stories (and some weird film he had of himself and others on a mountain lion out west hunt thing). he went by his last name which sounded the same as my first name and so i was called Little ___ which annoyed me. especially after i'd grown taller than him by the age of 11- maybe earlier. he'd always threaten to spank me. my mother would always step in and remind him he didn't dare try. he was older than my grandmother's father which was gross. he was sexist and racist and xenophobic and i'd been taught that these things were bad but i was supposed to be quiet about that around him. i resented him for taking my name and my voice.
sometimes i make excuses for thinking things are funny that i know i shouldn't laugh at but do; it's funny because the person who is involved is a racist or a jerk or sexist or what have you. that he was just an idiot only adds to the humor. this is my favorite memory of him:
he had this idea that he wanted a horse. by this point he was old and had only one leg. all of my father's siblings chipped in and paid for a horse for him- he picked it out because he was of course the only one who knew how to pick out a horse. he was really the only one who knew anything. having only one leg means that some aspects of riding a horse need to be adjusted for safety. because he alone knew how to do things he instructed everyone on how these things needed to be done. once atop the horse and tightly strapped in/ on he was let go of so he could ride. the horse had been holding its breath and the saddle to which he was tightly fastened was then loosened enough that it turned him around all the way so he was upside down and hanging from the belly of the horse. the horse was as upset as he was and as you can imagine there was much chaos.
that seemed like the epitome of who he was. how he was. i didn't go to his funeral. i suppose i could have to support my grandmother. i felt like that would be insincere and just plain didn't want to go.
he wasn't someone i would think of as a good person. maybe at some point he did something positive but i don't know that i saw any of that or knew of it or even got a feeling that it was part of him. if at some point he made people around him happy or something that might have been his contribution to this world. that seems like such a waste, too.
i think in his death my grandmother has gained some sort of freedom- at 14 she'd become a wife and mother and before that she cared for her siblings who were only months older than her first born. i kind of feel like she has gotten life from his death. aside from making her sad i don't know that his death had any sort of negativity that came with it.
that kind of feels weird because you're supposed to be sad or mourn the loss- but it doesn't feel like a loss or something like that. i don't know what to do with that. i don't really feel bad about that but maybe not feeling bad about it is something to feel bad about???? but i don't feel bad enough to worry much.
i hope it hasn't upset you much and that you're not having stress and unpleasant emotions over it! i hope no one in your family is either. have you guys got to go through his things and sort out things? sometimes that can be interesting. maybe you'll find out some secret or learn something you'd never expect to learn OR maybe you'll find something that lands you on Antiques Roadshow or sell for a fortune on Ebay! was he in a long time home- i suppose that could make any of the previously mentioned situations possible. oh- have you all inherited a house? or something fabulous? or strange? or just an obituary clipping?
i don't know that i react properly to death. do you think my chronic illnesses have made me so accustomed to the downs of life that i'm a bitter old hag at 31 who is so jaded by the world that find myself pointing out the most materialistic aspects of the death of an asshole (my step grandfather, not your grandfather not necessarily yours)?
sometimes i think that more than mourning the loss of someone i find myself mourning what could have been, what should have been and what never actually was. or i think of my loved ones lost before or who might sometime be lost. i don't know that i ever conform to normality but i think that death is certainly one area that perplexes me because of it.
you KNOW you can always call me and talk if you need to get your mind off of something or get this off your mind. take care my dear! and don't you over exert yourself or really exert yourself. and be sure to take care of yourself!!! should i make you a to do list of these things?
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