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prev home archive next Momentary Thought I really have no idea where this came from. Obviously something I needed to get out of my system, though I have no idea what triggered it to come out *today*. High/Low High: Had a productive day for personal stuff, a productive day for work stuff, and I'm going home in an hour. Low: Going home doesn't mean stopping work, though, since I have to call into a teleconference. AND Buffy is a God-blessed rerun. AGAIN. **AND** Calvin has to work tonight. Current Obsession Calvin. Grin Source Calvin. Storyteller Bio Dramatis Personnae Who I Read Recipes |
Dear Grandma, I'm going to write this to you as if you can understand me. This is one of those times when the words are more for myself than for you. They would be for you if they could be, but your mind is gone from me now and I'm left feeling guilty for not communicating, even though I know you're not aware of it at all. I never meant to be a bad granddaughter. I never wanted to lose touch. I can't explain why it happened other than to say that your illness confuses and frightens me. You don't really know who I am, yet I think in some way you know that you love me. Your days bleed into each other, and yet I think you may be aware of the passing of time. You don't talk anymore, but somewhere inside of you, I think you wish someone would talk to you. The words of my letters are meaningless to you, but I think the absence of those letters may have meaning for you. You have your son, and he's taking good care of you. I tell myself that if I still were in Maine I would be diligent in visiting you. Yet I wonder about that, too. I can't even bring myself to write you a letter, knowing that my uncle will have to read it to you. Knowing that you'll gaze at him, uncomprehending. How much harder would it be to see you as you are today, and compare you to the vibrant, intelligent, loving, argumentative, laughing, scolding, supportive Grammy that brought me up? The last few times I've come home to visit, I've seen the changes in you. I thank God that you were able to meet Calvin and the kids when you did, for your health and faculties failed so soon after our last visit. I thank God for the attentive and caring neighbors who noticed when they didn't see any activity around your house, and went to find out why. And more than anything, I thank God that you read the letter I sent home to you, a few months before your rapid decline, that very clearly described how I feel about you. How grateful I am to you. How sorry I am that I ever put you through hard times. How wonderful you were to raise me. I know that you know. I know that you heard me. I know that you felt how much I love you. You were strong in your morals. You stood up for what you believed in. You instilled in me my own sense of what is right and wrong. You gave me my sense of humor. You taught me how to cook. You gave me the freedom to discover what is right for me, and yet it never really was very far from what you would have directed me toward. You and me, together. Through my sleepovers and horseback riding lessons and homework. My fights with my friends, my first boyfriend, my struggles to figure out who I am. You took me in when you should have been enjoying your retirement. You started all over again - you at 68, raising me from the age of eight. You are a wonderful role model and I hope I exemplify everything you taught me. I miss you. I worry that you've been missing me. I love you, and I'm sorry, Grammy. Your little Laura ******************** Dear Pam, You piss me off. You damned bitch. It's to you, and your family, and all of your "followers" that I attribute my grandmother's decline. She's the last surviving member of a family that had ten children. As the youngest, she watched her parents and all of her brothers and sisters die. Her husband died. Her grandson died. Her daughter died. Countless friends and satellite family members passed away in her lifetime. Her last sister died a couple of years ago. The one she was closest to in age. The one she lived with as a child after her mother died. The one she's lived no more than ten miles away from for her entire life. The one that convinced her to become a Jehovah's Witness. When she died, her daughter wanted to come to her funeral. Any normal, decent person would never see a problem at all with that. It's her own mother. She should be able to attend the services. Except that this woman was disfellowshipped. Cast out of the congregation because she was a smoker. As such, she was not allowed to "associate" with members of the congregation. This congregation was hosting her mother's funeral. And you refused her. My grandmother stood up for her niece's right - no, need - to attend that funeral. She continued to support her niece, and visit her, and encourage her. She continued to "associate" with a "bad influence" - her own family. As such, my grandmother was removed from the congregation. Because of *your* suggestion, Pam. Because of *your* meddling, and mean-spiritedness. Because of your influence over your husband, an Elder in the congregation. Because of your influence in your own right over the members of the congregation. She was 80 years old at the time. Eighty. And you removed from her her only avenue for socialization. The only activities that took her out of the house. Her only stimulus and primary source of human companionship. All of her friends were in that congregation. You took it all away from her. You, and the entire institute of that damned religion. I got away from it, and you hated that. I turned away from you, and I turned away from your daughter. I was a child, and you wouldn't let me be friends with your daughter unless I "studied". My grandmother was also "studying". I thought, when I was twelve, that it was the right thing to do. But I grew up. My grandmother's participation in the religion brought her happiness and comfort. There were many good, kind people that she met at the Kingdom Hall. She didn't disown *me* when I turned away from it, like you did to *your* daughter when she fell away. Grandma always did buck the more outrageous practices, and you always hated that. Well, you finally got your way. She's out, and you're "vindicated". You go, Pam. Exercise your power over a loving, kind, fragile old woman. Protect "your" congregation from the bad influence that she must represent to everyone. You're an evil, evil woman. You don't believe in hell, and that must be conveniently comforting to you. Because surely if you did, you'd understand that you'd burn in it for a very, very long time. May God give you what you truly deserve, Laura |