as usual when i have something on my mind, i cant really sleep. despite how tired i may be. obviously i am still dealing with
this issue (thanks to those who shared their thoughts already) and how its going to play out over the next few days.
i tried to write something last night in an attempt to process my thoughts. but i had just finished smoking and had started watching
human traffic so my writing became lengthy and tangential. i am sober now which means my writing is more coherent (im surprised i got out what i did) although i have yet to master the art of brevity...even when not under the influence.
so for those who care, here's a bit of back story
SPOILERS! (Click to view)im an only child. my dad is from the projects in milwaukee wisconsin. my mom is from middle class (for black people) boston mass. they met while student activists during the black power movement of the 60s. their travels took them ultimately to durham, north carolina where i was born almost 35 years ago. after an initial bit of bouncing around, we settled in washington, dc. i was four years old.
for a while, it was just the three of us. mom, dad and myself. in the 80s, my grandmother on my mothers side--a widow--moved here from boston. it soon became apparent to my mom and her sister (my aunt) that their mother was suffering from alzheimers and dementia. my aunt moved here from atlanta georgia when i was in college so that she and my mom could pitch in to care for their mother in her last days--a task that would bear an increasingly heavy emotional load on us all.
in 2001, right around the time that planes were being allowed back into the air after the events of september 11, "schweetie", as i had always called her, made the final journey. the last decade of her life had really been a slow but steady progression towards the inevitable. her mental capacity and physical ability regressed reducing a woman who had accomplished so much in her life to a shell of her former self. in the end, she simply forgot how to live.
she had been a consistent presence in my life as a child--from being the babysitter and guardian of choice for my parents to being an almost weekly visitor for sunday dinner at my house. she would on occasion, receive visits from other relatives and as such, my mothers side of the family was fairly well represented in my youth.
in contrast, my dad came from considerably rougher circumstances. milwaukee is one of those blue collar towns you find all over these days--a decayed industrial city trying to rebuild itself in the digital era. i think it was malcolm x who once said something like, "when america gets a cold, black people get pneumonia". while the working class white folks were able to find better jobs and move to better opportunities, many poor and working class black people, seldom get the chance to break the cycle of despair. opportunity knocks but doesnt call in advance, so most people never get their ticket out of the bermuda triangle. the youngest of 3 kids and growing up on welfare, my dad was the lucky one. he started college on a full academic scholarship at the age of 16 and graduated a few years later. he was the first one in his family to do so. when he left the state for grad school in new york, he would never return as anything more than a visitor.
i saw his side of the family very infrequently. my uncle (his brother) and my grandpa (his dad) visited us once or twice when i was a kid. but my dad was the only one with any real financial means in his family so unless he paid their way, no one from the dairy state was coming to see us. as he climbed the corporate ladder and brought home the bigger paychecks, he was able to do more for them. at first i only saw it in the form of increased visits from my grandmother during the holiday times. but later i learned there was much more going on.
my dads father is a legally blind recovering gambling addict. my dads brother is a recovering alchoholic and drug addict--his kids and grandkids include a collection of droupouts, addicts and criminals. my dad's sister (my aunt) was widowed in the 80s and left to care for her two kids. one of them has cerebral palsy. he was not supposed to make it past the age of 16. he is in his 40s now.
the other kid, my cousin, is a few years my junior. at one time it looked as though she had gotten her golden ticket. but after only a few months, she dropped out of college, losing her scholarship. she had one kid. then another. got married. divorced. had two more kids and is now dealing with a drug and alchohol addiction.
my dad was taking care of all of them. he would send money to those who needed it--from a few dollars to a few thousand dollars. he would make frequent trips home to check in on everyone. he would do everything within his increasing degree of power and influence to try and straighten the road for his family. it had to be tough on him but he held it all inside. he doesnt like to talk about them. whos in jail again. whos in rehab again. i dont know if he intentionally tried to shelter me from them...or them from me... but with the exception of my cousin, with whom i made an effort to keep in contact, and my grandmother, i can count on one hand the number of times in my life that i can recall spending time with members of his family.
five years ago, days before he and my mom were due to leave on a trip to paris for the french open, grandma had a serious stroke. she never fully regained the ability to speak coherently or operate independently. ever since it happened, he and my aunt watched over her affairs and health. his trips to milwaukee increased in frequency and when i would ask him about the situation up there, the news never seemed to get better.
about a month and a half ago, we got word that she had suffered a series of additional strokes. her conditioned worsened and we were told to prepare for the end. it could be days or months. yesterday morning, my mom called to tell me that grandma wasnt expected to make it beyond 24 hours. we conference-called with my dad to determine the feasibility of booking a flight or making the 12 hour drive. i convinced them that there was in all probability, a very slim chance that they would get there in time. the day before thanksgiving is the worst day possible to travel. i told them that it would be better to take the few remaining hours of the last work day until next week and get everything in order so that when they up there, these two high-level corporate executives could leave the office fully and deal with family.
for once i felt as though they saw me as an equal. an intelligent adult and not a child. they took my suggestion and agreed to leave late in the morning on thanksgiving day. at 10:34 last night, my mom called me in tears to tell me that my grandma had finally passed. earlier in the day, when we had conferenced called my dad, he was on the other line with the nursing home. one of the caregivers was holding the phone to his mother's ear so she could hear him. it would be the last time they ever spoke. i've never seen my dad show any of the "softer emotions" like fear or anxiety or sorrow. all of my life i have seen him as "joe cool"--the guy with the answer for every fucking thing. but during that conversation, he finally seemed human. his voice shaky, he asked us to call him back in 5 minutes. when we did, joe cool was back.
my concern about the next few days has nothing to do with my grandma. i love her and will miss her. i am sad that she is gone but i know she is in a better place. and while loss of any sort is hard, the fact that i had very little contact with her has me somewhat detached from her death.
what is going to make the next few days tough for me is that i have a series of issues in my relationship with my parents...particularly my dad. we have grown further apart in the years sinced i moved back here from pittsburgh and even though i was going to be asked to say a few words at his now postponed surprise birthday party next weekend, i had been wrestling with what to say to be honest and nice without sounding like a cynical ungrateful brat.
he is going to be "in character" while up there. it is expected that he be the strong one and i know he will not disappoint. but he has never talked to me or my mom about what he "feels". yesterday is the only time i ever saw him show any real emotion on the issue and that was only for a fleeting moment.
id really like to be close to the bastard. i love and respect the hell out of him. but i just dont know how to relate to him much anymore. our values are not the same. our interests vary. our interactions have become hollow and sterile. its going to be hard to deal with him on a real level.
in a way, i feel pissed at him for keeping his family...my family...from me. i feel i know my wife's family better than i know my own. and they are just as fucked up. but they are family. when i told her the plan about driving up next week, she asked "where will we stay". i found it odd that we are going to a city where i have a shitload of relatives, yet im not sure where my wife and kids can stay the night (besides a hotel of course).
i know that this experience is going to change a lot of things. im just not sure how.
i am heading over to my parents house in a few minutes to send them on their way. me, my wife and the boy will go to my aunts later for thanksgiving dinner and tomorrow i will make my trip to NY as originally planned. i'm going to try to operate as normally as possible before stepping into the surreal life next week. this will be my last entry for a while.
i find it ironic that i just started watching six feet under
happy thanksgiving