Grandmother
My grandmother recently passed away after a long, long life.
As an adult, I wasn't close to her, but as a child, I suspect I may have been her closest grandchild. It was only fitting that we would lose contact as I god older, as the path I chose was to avoid much of my paternal family and continue with my education. As I grew older, too, I chose to reject that side of the family due to revelations about my grandfather that had already wreaked enough havoc on the family in the 1980s.
Without revealing what my grandfather did, the decision my grandmother made to stay with her husband was something that I couldn't understand when I was 20. As I near 30, in spite of the fact that I am no longer with anyone, I begin to have perspective: she had a family with him; she'd been with him for decades; she probably didn't know how to exist without him. It's not forgiveness for my grandfather, but it's an understanding for someone who loved somebody, in spite of his flaws.
My uncle officiated. He mentioned how Grandma was kind to everyone and believed you got out of life what you put into it. I just believe that my grandmother was a very straightforward, and honestly, quite tough lady. Everyone was talking about her jam- how she gave it away as a gift, how much she made every year. I remember helping her, but not very well, since I was 10.
I just thank my grandma because she was unlike other grandmothers who had their children in the 50s. She knew her shit. She knew how to make jam without the pectin, she knew how to crochet, she knew what to do with food. She also kept a gigantic bottle of bourbon under her sink and drank it with coke and smoked cigarettes. And she lived. A long time.
As an adult, I wasn't close to her, but as a child, I suspect I may have been her closest grandchild. It was only fitting that we would lose contact as I god older, as the path I chose was to avoid much of my paternal family and continue with my education. As I grew older, too, I chose to reject that side of the family due to revelations about my grandfather that had already wreaked enough havoc on the family in the 1980s.
Without revealing what my grandfather did, the decision my grandmother made to stay with her husband was something that I couldn't understand when I was 20. As I near 30, in spite of the fact that I am no longer with anyone, I begin to have perspective: she had a family with him; she'd been with him for decades; she probably didn't know how to exist without him. It's not forgiveness for my grandfather, but it's an understanding for someone who loved somebody, in spite of his flaws.
My uncle officiated. He mentioned how Grandma was kind to everyone and believed you got out of life what you put into it. I just believe that my grandmother was a very straightforward, and honestly, quite tough lady. Everyone was talking about her jam- how she gave it away as a gift, how much she made every year. I remember helping her, but not very well, since I was 10.
I just thank my grandma because she was unlike other grandmothers who had their children in the 50s. She knew her shit. She knew how to make jam without the pectin, she knew how to crochet, she knew what to do with food. She also kept a gigantic bottle of bourbon under her sink and drank it with coke and smoked cigarettes. And she lived. A long time.