2001-11-24 - 7:07 a.m.
"And don't tell me God works in mysterious ways", Yossarian continued "There's nothing mysterious about it, He's not working at all. He's playing. Or else He's forgotten all about us. That's the kind of God you people talk about, a country bumpkin, a clumsy, bungling, brainless, conceited, uncouth hayseed. Good God, how much reverence can you have for a Supreme Being who finds it necessary to include such phenomena as phlegm and tooth decay in His divine system of Creation? What in the world was running through that warped, evil, scatalogical mind of His when He robbed old people of the power to control their bowel movements? Why in the world did He ever create pain?"
Joseph Heller, Catch22
I've yet to turn as cynical as all that...but this quote has been stirring in my mind since I left Maine yesterday and headed back to the safety and security of my life here. In a way, driving the 4 hours back to Massachusetts I felt like I was running away...its not fair to impose that on myself..after all there's nothing I can do, there's nothing anyone can do...there are certain things children and grandchildren should never have to see, never have to go through. I'd give my life, I'd sell my soul to some dark creature, if only I could stop what is happening to my grandparents, but I can't...I can't change it. I'd give most anything to take the pain from my mom, to erase her memories of all this. I wish for one trip there where I didn't have to hear them all cry. I hate the powers of the universe sometimes for all this.... I can't understand where there's some higher purpose to this suffering. I won't.
Thanksgiving day was amazingly peaceful at first. It almost seemed like old times as grampy showed me his rock collection again so we could pick out a stone for my necklace. I passed over the tourmaline and selected a gorgeous piece of malecite and I watched my grandfather's hands shake as he finished the polishing and faceted the new gem into the necklace. It was the benign sign of old age, it didn't hurt like the rest did. We sat together as a family and ate and laughed. For a brief moment in time everything seemed like it had in all of my memories. My heart was quiet and happy...and life seemed at peace. Mom smiled, god did that feel so good to see.
We went to my uncle's for the evening. Ron was recently back from a working tour of the Dominican Republic. He'd been on the same scheduled flight, on an
So my grandparents went home quite early...I gave them about a 20 minute lead and then decided it was time I went to make sure everything was ok. It had been a long exhausting day and I knew the potential for trouble was there. I dreaded driving in that driveway, and my worst fears were met as I stepped out of the car. You could hear him yelling from outside....he didn't miss a beat as I let myself in the door. He was in her face...over her as she sat on the couch pinned, helpless and crying as he battered her emotionally. And once again the idea that my grandfather is now an abuser had to become all too concrete.
The man I knew was always a gentle man. The man I knew was my inspiration and reason for living in so many hard times. The man I knew as Grampy is long dead. Its horrible to say that...it feels horrible....but somewhere in that there's a little peace of mind. I can't accept this new sick man as my grampy. I can't un-dignify his life long legacy by believing this is the same man. The person in his body now is an illness. May none of you reading this every have to hold your mother as she cries and feels wretched over saying - I wish he'd just lay down and die in peace. Its not fair, no element of this is in any way justified and fair. He was so amazing and he always will be to me....but why do these new memories have to intertwine. Why does my mother have to face this every day. What did my grandmother do to deserve this abuse. What did grampy do to deserve such an illness, such agony and suffering every day of his life.
Obsessive compulsive disorder + dimensia + god knows what else and here we are. I hate myself for the tought that life would be better if he just died. Its not a selfish thought - it would spare so much suffering, for him, for the family....but something inside me says its wrong. So much of me thinks it could find a cure, something to help....but I'm rendered powerless by their location 4 hours north and a stubborn family. And I realized this weekend the victem in this I forget. My uncle Ron...always the beloved son in my memories. Today he's been battered and bruised in different ways than the rest of us. This terrible fighting stems from events that happened before I lived....from days gone by when a tired housewife (grammy) worked extra hours in a shoe shop so that they could retire some day. When grampy raised Ron as his own and never reminded anyone of the fact that he'd married my grandmother and agreed to raise someone else's child. I never knew any of this until 4 years ago. Now almost daily I hear how Ron is not his son...how I'm the only granddaughter, how Ron is a rotton unthankful person and how my grandmother is a whore. There are things that a child and grandchild should never hear and see...these are them. May you never see your parent cry as you committ them to a psych ward, may you never see a parent hit and abuse the other, may you never watch as a parent tries to stab themselves to death...may you never see the things my mother and I have seen my grandparents go through.
Friday morning was worse than ever....they went at it with avengance and I needed to slip out and breathe in the air for a moment. Mother was playing referee, she's done it a million times over now...it wasn't fair to leave her for that moment but I was selfish. So I lit a cigarette in teh driveway and listened to the screaming of the same old story from inside the house. Words don't touch him now...this just consumes him. But then the one thing I hadn't witnessed yet...I heard the smack of his hand on her flesh....something inside me broke. I lept into that house and I screamed at the top of my lungs...I got up in his face and I told him to hit me...I said a million things I never could have imagined saying to him.....My heart shattered in that moment. He's convinced her she's utterly worthless...she's bad and she's brought this all on herself. She worked 28 years at that shoe shop, extra hours so that some day they could have a retirement together, and this is how she is repaid. She never once stepped out on him after they were married, but he can never believe that.
Things will never be the same after this weekend, I've had to realize that he truly is dead to me....though I'll still go there. I'm trying to get mom into therapy, she needs help with all this...its more than a child should ever have to go through. I have to make peace with the idea that I cannot stop this. If we take them apart its a death sentance and they'll both be miserable without eachother....if we leave them together its a death sentance and they'll be miserable with eachother. How do you win?
Its not fair...how can a god justify such suffering...such usless pain for two people that have done nothing but the best they could for all their lives. I'll never understand. I hate it every day. I'll always love that man fiercely - but this is not the man I knew.
I think I'm done now...
