15 Years
Fifteen years ago today, Granny, the grandmother who raised me with Aunt Tudi, died from complications of congestive heart failure and diabetes. Almost from the moment I was brought home from the hospital, Granny took care of me. She and Aunt Tudi were always there for me. When the Mother Unit and Father Unit broke up in 1974, it was Granny who stepped up and looked after my best interests above those of her son, my father. He didn't deal with the break-up very well and he did some things that haunt me to this day during the short period of time I was in his custody. If it hadn't been for Granny and Aunt Tudi, my psychological issues would be a lot worse than they are. Not to diss on the Father Unit. He was having an extremely rough time of it and wasn't able to function as he needed to. The last thing he needed or should have had was custody of a six-year-old. I don't blame him or the Mother Unit for anything that went on during that period of time. It just needed saying that Granny was the one who, along with Aunt Tudi, championed my cause above everything and everyone else.
She had her faults. She was biased against blacks and gays, and she was a staunch Protestant Christian, being raised a Southern Baptist. She was born in 1925 in Union, South Carolina, and was truly a product of her time and environment. But in many ways she grew beyond that and became open to certain possibilities. Even though she had her issues with non-whites, she taught her children to not be bigots. And even though she knew that my best friend was gay, she loved and accepted him as though he were her very own grandson. Theirs was a "don't ask, don't tell' policy, but I'd like to believe that, if that policy had ever been broken, she would have still loved him no matter what. From early childhood, Granny taught me that I could sit under a tree and be closer to god than I ever could in a church. That simple lesson was what eventually led me to Witchcraft. And, even though she disapproved of my spiritual choices, Granny never once stood in my way or tried to preach the Gospel to me.
She was a wise woman who lived a very hard life, having to raise three children alone after her husband abandoned her when she refused to dump those children in an orphanage to run off with him to live a life of international intrigue. He outlived her by 13 years, I think, and he was older than she. I can't help but think he enjoyed a life extension off the backs of his abandoned wife and children, my father being his youngest child, who died a year before his own father. She loved unconditionally, taught gently, and sang beautifully.
One of my earliest memories is of being rocked in Granny's arms while she sang "Sleep Kentucky Babe." My last memory of Granny is of her spirit dashing through me as I watched her body die in the sterile hospital room in which she spent her last days. I know she was entering into a realm of joy, even though I didn't want her to go. I try not to be selfish in wishing she were still here but, some days, I'd give anything to go back to being tiny enough to fit in Granny's arms and know nothing more than the simple contentment of listening to her song and feeling her warmth envelope me.
EDIT: An example of how Granny would have done anything for me: when we moved from SC back to NC back in the 70s, Granny held my Russian Blue cat Esmerelda on her lap all the way from Duncan to Black Mountain. This may not sound like much of a thing, but Granny couldn't bear the feeling of fur. Fur on her skin made her pretty much freak out. So her two-hour journey was spent enduring my fur-baby's presence on her lap, while she fought fainting and enjoyed a cold sweat the entire time. She loved me that much. And I loved her. And I miss her. Still.
She had her faults. She was biased against blacks and gays, and she was a staunch Protestant Christian, being raised a Southern Baptist. She was born in 1925 in Union, South Carolina, and was truly a product of her time and environment. But in many ways she grew beyond that and became open to certain possibilities. Even though she had her issues with non-whites, she taught her children to not be bigots. And even though she knew that my best friend was gay, she loved and accepted him as though he were her very own grandson. Theirs was a "don't ask, don't tell' policy, but I'd like to believe that, if that policy had ever been broken, she would have still loved him no matter what. From early childhood, Granny taught me that I could sit under a tree and be closer to god than I ever could in a church. That simple lesson was what eventually led me to Witchcraft. And, even though she disapproved of my spiritual choices, Granny never once stood in my way or tried to preach the Gospel to me.
She was a wise woman who lived a very hard life, having to raise three children alone after her husband abandoned her when she refused to dump those children in an orphanage to run off with him to live a life of international intrigue. He outlived her by 13 years, I think, and he was older than she. I can't help but think he enjoyed a life extension off the backs of his abandoned wife and children, my father being his youngest child, who died a year before his own father. She loved unconditionally, taught gently, and sang beautifully.
One of my earliest memories is of being rocked in Granny's arms while she sang "Sleep Kentucky Babe." My last memory of Granny is of her spirit dashing through me as I watched her body die in the sterile hospital room in which she spent her last days. I know she was entering into a realm of joy, even though I didn't want her to go. I try not to be selfish in wishing she were still here but, some days, I'd give anything to go back to being tiny enough to fit in Granny's arms and know nothing more than the simple contentment of listening to her song and feeling her warmth envelope me.
EDIT: An example of how Granny would have done anything for me: when we moved from SC back to NC back in the 70s, Granny held my Russian Blue cat Esmerelda on her lap all the way from Duncan to Black Mountain. This may not sound like much of a thing, but Granny couldn't bear the feeling of fur. Fur on her skin made her pretty much freak out. So her two-hour journey was spent enduring my fur-baby's presence on her lap, while she fought fainting and enjoyed a cold sweat the entire time. She loved me that much. And I loved her. And I miss her. Still.