Sometimes I think to myself…this never would have been a
problem, if I hadn’t let people in. The me
of yesteryear rarely made good friends and starting in adulthood – held family
at arm’s length; it was always easier that way; better to be able to pick up and
leave at a moment’s notice – no regrets.
I don’t regret my current friendships, but I do regret closing people
off and/or pushing people away. I am sure I hurt people without intending to. This is
my escape mechanism. This is what I do
when I am afraid of getting hurt. But I
digress…
I had tried my best to keep in contact with my grandparents
and family for the years since I had moved away. I do have a heart. I do love them. Unfortunately the guilt about my relationship
with my mother (or lack thereof) became too much to bear in 2013. So, while I wanted ever so much for my grandparents
(the people that had basically raised me as a child – gaining full custody of
me at the end of Middle School) to know my husband and my children – I made the
decision to step away from the family altogether. I felt that it would be better not to have to
make them choose between me and their daughter – that I was doing everyone a
favor. It was probably one of the worst
decisions I have ever made.
On February 8, 2014 - I was home alone with the kids,
sitting down to breakfast burritos when I got a call from my Uncle. An Uncle I hadn’t heard from or spoken to in
at least 10 years but for online communications here and there. My heart dropped before I answered the
phone. I sat in shock – rolling my son’s
burrito for him – as I learned that my healthy, active, strong, virile (not old
enough for this to be happening) grandfather had suffered a stroke that
morning. The last conversation I had had
with him had been to tell him I was stepping away from the family.
He was dying and for all I knew he thought I walked away
because I didn’t love him anymore. My
heart broke. I have already lost one dad
in my life (my biological dad passed when I was 12) and, while I knew and loved and had amazing memories of this one, I
couldn’t bear to lose him without saying goodbye. So I cancelled my week, booked a flight for
that evening and went to his bedside in Florida – surrounded by family I had
purposefully estranged from my life, saddened by the knowledge of what a
mistake that had truly been. He passed
within about an hour of my arrival at the hospital – but I got to say goodbye, to
tell him how I truly felt. We all
did. No matter how dysfunctional or
broken our family is/was/can be (isn’t everyone’s?), I know for a fact that my
grandfather was loved. He was surrounded
by love when he passed.
I am glad I went. I
am glad I was able to help. I am glad I
reconnected with family. Family is
important, I have always known that. I
struggle daily with my inner demons and the memories of my past associated with
my mother. I struggle knowing that I
didn’t push more, try harder, to make the situation in our family work
better. My kids should have known my
grandpa – he was an amazing man. He
came from nothing and worked his ass off to be successful; he made miracles happen for his family. He was the strongest person I have ever known
and I miss him every single day.
This tragedy has taught me to reevaluate what is important
in my life. It has taught me to open my
heart, even if I may get hurt; because happiness cannot be achieved when you close
yourself off to the world. My goal this
year, even before my grandfather’s death, was to work on cultivating personal
relationships/friendships. I want to
surround myself with people that want to be in my life. I want to be uplifted, challenged and
supported in my friendships/relationships.
The saying goes something like: “you are the average of the 5 people closest
to you in your life” – I want my average to be amazing. I know that the people that love me are
amazing and I look forward to growing old with them - laughing and sharing
memories.
Cheers to you gramps!
May I be half the person you were and all of the person you told me I had
the potential to become. - Mimosa
