(no subject)
I've been thinking about what makes a family for months now. A friend and I were talking it last night and she seemed stunned that I have a biological grandfather I've only met once.
My line of thinking is he's not my grandpa and he's never been a part of my life. My dad's stepdad was always Grandpa, even though my father never called him Dad or thought of him as such. I didn't know he wasn't my only option until I was seven or so and was asking my grandma the ages and middle names and such of my dad and his brothers and she explained to me why half of them had different last names. I don't remember thinking that was weird or it even making much or an impression on me at all.
When I did meet my biological grandfather I was about twelve. He and my mother had arranged things and he and his wife came up from Ohio to meet me and my siblings. It was very strange to meet this person I was supposed to have a connection to. I knew nothing about him or his wife or the daughter they had together. I felt slightly guilty, as if just by meeting this person I was betraying my grandpa, as if he wasn't enough. I've never seen him since, nor do I have any contact with him.
When my grandmother left him he simply stopped being a part of the family. He was supposed to see my dad and his two older brothers but just never showed up. He was also supposed to pay child support and possibly alimony but that never happened either. By the time I was born neither my dad nor my uncles seemed to give him much thought, or at least never mentioned him. My grandma would likely answer any questions I asked her but I guess that one meeting satisfied any curiosity I had because I've never really asked any.
Grandpa has been dead for over nine years now but even that doesn't incline me to forge a relationship with someone I usually think of as my grandma's first husband. I think about and miss Grandpa more days than not but it's pretty rare that my biological grandfather crosses my mind.
I have this memory of being very small and burning my hand on the exhaust pipe of the dune buggy after going for a ride with my grandparents. I think it's things like that that influence my emotions most: Grandpa was just a constant presence in my life, someone to take me for a dune buggy ride or camping or to Mackinaw Island or to sit next to at dinner. My dad's father just wasn't there; I have almost no memories of him, good or bad.
We weren't particularly close but I loved him and he loved me. I may have been his stepson's kid but I was his first granddaughter and first grandbaby. (Not first grandchild, my uncle adopted his wife's kids when they were 7 and 9 before I came along.) He went to the hospital to see me when I was born and refused to hold me until much later because he was afraid he'd hurt me. How could a blood connection be more important?
I miss him so much.
My line of thinking is he's not my grandpa and he's never been a part of my life. My dad's stepdad was always Grandpa, even though my father never called him Dad or thought of him as such. I didn't know he wasn't my only option until I was seven or so and was asking my grandma the ages and middle names and such of my dad and his brothers and she explained to me why half of them had different last names. I don't remember thinking that was weird or it even making much or an impression on me at all.
When I did meet my biological grandfather I was about twelve. He and my mother had arranged things and he and his wife came up from Ohio to meet me and my siblings. It was very strange to meet this person I was supposed to have a connection to. I knew nothing about him or his wife or the daughter they had together. I felt slightly guilty, as if just by meeting this person I was betraying my grandpa, as if he wasn't enough. I've never seen him since, nor do I have any contact with him.
When my grandmother left him he simply stopped being a part of the family. He was supposed to see my dad and his two older brothers but just never showed up. He was also supposed to pay child support and possibly alimony but that never happened either. By the time I was born neither my dad nor my uncles seemed to give him much thought, or at least never mentioned him. My grandma would likely answer any questions I asked her but I guess that one meeting satisfied any curiosity I had because I've never really asked any.
Grandpa has been dead for over nine years now but even that doesn't incline me to forge a relationship with someone I usually think of as my grandma's first husband. I think about and miss Grandpa more days than not but it's pretty rare that my biological grandfather crosses my mind.
I have this memory of being very small and burning my hand on the exhaust pipe of the dune buggy after going for a ride with my grandparents. I think it's things like that that influence my emotions most: Grandpa was just a constant presence in my life, someone to take me for a dune buggy ride or camping or to Mackinaw Island or to sit next to at dinner. My dad's father just wasn't there; I have almost no memories of him, good or bad.
We weren't particularly close but I loved him and he loved me. I may have been his stepson's kid but I was his first granddaughter and first grandbaby. (Not first grandchild, my uncle adopted his wife's kids when they were 7 and 9 before I came along.) He went to the hospital to see me when I was born and refused to hold me until much later because he was afraid he'd hurt me. How could a blood connection be more important?
I miss him so much.