Rainy day...
Emotionally, not actually. Today was one of those beautiful, crisp October days. I don't know why, but the sky seems bluer in October than any other time of the year.
In any case, my ex-step-granddad died today. I found out around 9 this morning, and I've been kind of torn ever since. It's an odd situation - one that I'll try to explain a little here. This man was the only real 'papaw' I ever knew. When I think of grandfathers, I think of him first and foremost. He was everything a papaw should be, and it wasn't until I was older that I realized he wasn't my real granddad. He might as well have been, though - I always felt closer to him than my real one.
He and Gran split up when I was around 15 or 16. It's not my story to tell so I won't go into detail, but something happened that I always held him accountable for. Nothing indecent or anything, just a tiff between them, but I felt at that point in time that I had to choose between him and Gran. Of course Gran won out. She's my everything. When they split, I took all of the good memories, everything that made him my papaw, and locked it away. He became nothing more to me than a man who had married Gran. I know that sounds cold, but it's true. I've never been able to cut a tie that completely and I still don't really understand how I did it with him.
Over the years, his health had declined and we found out that he was in CCU a couple of months ago. I went to see him, but mostly I did it for my aunt Tracy (he's her daddy). We found out that he had stage 4 cancer and that he didn't have much longer to live. And still, I remained kind of locked away from him. I never wished him any ill, and I hated it for Tracy... but to me he wasn't really my papaw anymore. He was a man I knew who was sick.
That was all me, too - every time I would see him out in public, it thrilled him. He would always ask me about school and my life, and he would always say, "Papaw loves you, sugar". He never stopped loving me, and he never stopped treating me like his granddaughter. Ever. I was the one who distanced myself from him.
And now I don't really know how to feel. I know that Gran has seen him several times, and she talked to him a few days before he passed away. She forgave him for anything that happened between them.. in fact, I think she probably forgave him long ago. And since she did, who am I to hold anything against him? He did no wrong to me. I have no ground to stand on. But that lock I constructed so many years ago has held firm. I don't understand it. One part of me wants to bust that lock, to look at him for the papaw he was to me and honor that - to forgive wrongdoings and mistakes and cherish him for who he was. And grieve his passing. But the other part of me stands protected behind that lock. I've grown so used to being distant from him that it's hard for me now to be anything but. That part of me says, "Yes, he was my papaw... until he and Gran split". That part of me puts limits on my love for him, and that is wrong. Love shouldn't have limits. His had no limits for me. To him, I was papaw's girl. He accepted and loved me, faults and all. And I did not do the same for him.
I saw my Gran's tears that night so long ago, and that is all I saw. But now I realize that tears are necessary. Hurt is necessary. You cannot truly live without experiencing it. And I understand now that I was too harsh on him, that I meddled in a place that wasn't mine to begin with. I realize all of this intellectually, but I can't break those boundaries I've constructed within myself.
I know I'm rambling now, but this has been bothering me all day. I always talk about forgiving people, about looking for the good in them no matter what - and I didn't do that for my own papaw. I've given second, third, fourth chances to people who did not deserve them, and I turned away completely from a man who loved me with all of his heart. I gave him only one chance.
Why would I do that? And why did it take him dying to make me realize how narrow minded I've been towards him? Why have I been so quick to forgive those who did not love me, and so condemning towards a man who did?
He was not a saint in life, and I will not make him one in death. He was a human, full of flaws and problems and regrets... but inherently good. And I refused to look at that. I saw only his wrongs, and that burden is mine to carry. I did not do right by him, and I believe that is the one thing in my life that I will ever regret.
In any case, my ex-step-granddad died today. I found out around 9 this morning, and I've been kind of torn ever since. It's an odd situation - one that I'll try to explain a little here. This man was the only real 'papaw' I ever knew. When I think of grandfathers, I think of him first and foremost. He was everything a papaw should be, and it wasn't until I was older that I realized he wasn't my real granddad. He might as well have been, though - I always felt closer to him than my real one.
He and Gran split up when I was around 15 or 16. It's not my story to tell so I won't go into detail, but something happened that I always held him accountable for. Nothing indecent or anything, just a tiff between them, but I felt at that point in time that I had to choose between him and Gran. Of course Gran won out. She's my everything. When they split, I took all of the good memories, everything that made him my papaw, and locked it away. He became nothing more to me than a man who had married Gran. I know that sounds cold, but it's true. I've never been able to cut a tie that completely and I still don't really understand how I did it with him.
Over the years, his health had declined and we found out that he was in CCU a couple of months ago. I went to see him, but mostly I did it for my aunt Tracy (he's her daddy). We found out that he had stage 4 cancer and that he didn't have much longer to live. And still, I remained kind of locked away from him. I never wished him any ill, and I hated it for Tracy... but to me he wasn't really my papaw anymore. He was a man I knew who was sick.
That was all me, too - every time I would see him out in public, it thrilled him. He would always ask me about school and my life, and he would always say, "Papaw loves you, sugar". He never stopped loving me, and he never stopped treating me like his granddaughter. Ever. I was the one who distanced myself from him.
And now I don't really know how to feel. I know that Gran has seen him several times, and she talked to him a few days before he passed away. She forgave him for anything that happened between them.. in fact, I think she probably forgave him long ago. And since she did, who am I to hold anything against him? He did no wrong to me. I have no ground to stand on. But that lock I constructed so many years ago has held firm. I don't understand it. One part of me wants to bust that lock, to look at him for the papaw he was to me and honor that - to forgive wrongdoings and mistakes and cherish him for who he was. And grieve his passing. But the other part of me stands protected behind that lock. I've grown so used to being distant from him that it's hard for me now to be anything but. That part of me says, "Yes, he was my papaw... until he and Gran split". That part of me puts limits on my love for him, and that is wrong. Love shouldn't have limits. His had no limits for me. To him, I was papaw's girl. He accepted and loved me, faults and all. And I did not do the same for him.
I saw my Gran's tears that night so long ago, and that is all I saw. But now I realize that tears are necessary. Hurt is necessary. You cannot truly live without experiencing it. And I understand now that I was too harsh on him, that I meddled in a place that wasn't mine to begin with. I realize all of this intellectually, but I can't break those boundaries I've constructed within myself.
I know I'm rambling now, but this has been bothering me all day. I always talk about forgiving people, about looking for the good in them no matter what - and I didn't do that for my own papaw. I've given second, third, fourth chances to people who did not deserve them, and I turned away completely from a man who loved me with all of his heart. I gave him only one chance.
Why would I do that? And why did it take him dying to make me realize how narrow minded I've been towards him? Why have I been so quick to forgive those who did not love me, and so condemning towards a man who did?
He was not a saint in life, and I will not make him one in death. He was a human, full of flaws and problems and regrets... but inherently good. And I refused to look at that. I saw only his wrongs, and that burden is mine to carry. I did not do right by him, and I believe that is the one thing in my life that I will ever regret.