Grandma Jane: Our Reason, now gone
It turns out, the things that start in dysfunction, end that way.
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A Song For The Road:
Anyone who knows me is aware how important my family is to me. I talk about them constantly, whether I'm happy with them or not, they have always been my reason to continue living.
The story of my family that I am going to tell today, and likely over the next few days, begins with Grandma Jane. My mom's mom. She was the reason for the closeness of our family, a true matriarch bringing us together, an upholder of tradition. For better and worse, Jane cared about her family and wanted to see us. She wanted to spend time together, no matter how chaotic, no matter who fought or cried, she wanted us to be together. In the last year, I've learned some things about my grandmother that shocked me at first. It took me a bit of time to reconcile that the woman I knew didn't just exist. She fought tooth and nail for every bit of peace she acquired, worked for every bit of wisdom.
My Grandmother was born in 1932, in Long Island, NY. She talked about rations and picking beans after school because "everyone had to do their part." She lived thru war, the Civil Right's Movement, the invention of computers and cellphones and social media, the first black president (which she thought was the BEST!). She had a huge family who loved her, whom she indoctrinated with the unconditional love of God and 12 Step values.
I heard a story once that when she was very young, my grandmother had a friend who was Hispanic. This other little girl had come over for a playdate and my great grandfather happened to come home in the middle. Cue his racist slurs toward a child, and my great grandmother took the little girl home. From then on, Jane was taken to her house for playdates because she'd be damned what her father thought.
Jane's father had it all planned out. She would graduate high school, become a secretary for his business, find a nice man, etc. Instead, Jane went off to Cortland College, to become a PE Teacher. She ended up working for the Girl Scouts for most of her career. She did find a nice man, who loved kids and baseball. They were going to have "a whole baseball team" until he started drinking.
From what I understand, my grandfather was a loving man when he was sober. He just couldn't seem to stay that way. Somehow in the middle of the night, my Grandmother with all her former bravery, found herself tied to a tree in the yard. Five children lined up at the glass door watching in horror as their father threatened to blow mom's head off with his gun. It turns out, not all five kids remember this story - my mom, being the youngest was just as surprised as I was to hear it. She only remembered being torn from bed at night to get belted. I don't think that is any better. There were some other stories told, just as shocking, that I will not share, because they are not mine, and the folks who can claim them are still alive. Still, I'm sure you get the picture.
She still loved her husband, so she didn't divorce him, but he did have to leave the house. She told me, long after his death, that if he had ever stopped drinking, she would have taken him back in a heartbeat. I have a lot of grace for her choice to stay with him so long, despite the abuse. I don't think she knew how to hold it all at once. I think she worried about finances if she kicked her husband out. In those days, women couldn't have credit cards, or bank accounts, or anything really without a man's signature. She made sure we all knew - always have a way out, your own bank account, a career or at least a job. I didn't understand then why it was so important, but I do now.
At some point, Jane found Alanon, a support organization for families and friends of alcoholics. It seems that this was a turning point for her and she started to build a whole new life for her family. I've been hearing the 12 Steps my whole life, so something definitely sunk in. I think she started to learn that unconditional love does not mean unconditional access. I think she learned to let go and put that which she could not control into the hands of God. She started to learn peace, even when she wasn’t getting exactly what she wanted.
My family is a big ball of dysfunction, of addictive tendencies, or codependency, wrapped up in love. I see how hard my Grandma tried to lead us out of what she had started with my grandfather. I see how every aspect of my family is steeped in cycles of addiction. I see how it's actually the whole world.
These days it feels like my family is splintering apart. I am still calling addiction as the culprit. The way we gathered “for Grandma” was codependent. I’m only realizing it now because she’s gone and we don’t gather anymore. At Christmas last year, everyone canceled because “it’s too much work” or they “just don’t want to make the drive” or “it’s too chaotic to be all together” and that broke my heart more than I could ever tell my family. But I can’t control them.
Instead, I stopped texting my cousin to get together because he never makes an effort toward me. I stopped going to my aunt for advice because she “can’t handle it.” I didn’t ask about Easter because my heart was already broken by them.
I’ve been missing my grandma extra this year. As I watch my family disappear, excuse me, “grow up” is how they all put it. “Busy.” Too busy for me. Too busy for “family togetherness.” Instead of continuing to try to hold them together, I am letting go, letting God, and I moved 3,000 miles away. I still always call first. I’m still the only one who sends a text, “Just to say I love you”. I send them less and less and less because I don’t want to make them “do it for Grandma” even after she is dead. I guess I just never realized that being a close family was so burdensome. I wish I hadn’t taken it for granted when I was young. It wasn’t going to last forever, and I watched it end. I fought hard for it Grandma, but it was never meant to be mine. It was always yours.
It turns out, the things that start in dysfunction end that way too.
Shulman Dr, Brunswick, ME
