Down to Nothing

grief and life

A few days too late

I suppose I waited too long since my last post.  Everything has become a numb thought.  Anyway, we took a little road trip to visit Taylor's family for a huge family reunion.  I had an anxiety attack to really kick off the reunion with a bang.  I kept thinking how my family will never have a huge event like this again, because my Gram-cracker always set this type of thing up.  She is the heart of the extended family. I vaguely remember meeting my second cousins a few years ago, but have not seen them since.  Now my Gram is terminally sick and the next time I will see my extended-extended family is at her funeral.  On Sunday, we took a trip to the nursing home where Taylor's Grandpa now resides.  I had only met him once at Taylor's sister's wedding.  He didn't remember Taylor at the wedding and couldn't remember Taylor or his sister at this visit.  He seems to have aged quite a bit from the last time I saw him.  Everybody was crying when they saw him as I just sat there.  I wasn't really sure what to do.  Taylor's uncle had just given me Grandpa's van behind his back.  And when we told the family that I was pregnant, they decided to tell Grandpa that Taylor and I had gotten married and that he just didn't remember the wedding.  I felt grossly uncomfortable with that idea.  I don't think it is fair to pass us off as being married to anyone.   I have yet to see a ring and my dad died without being able to see his baby get married.  Marriage is very sacred to me, as it is with most women, I guess.  I want a big wedding, but enjoyable and fun, with Elvis as our "minister".  I always dreamed that my dad would make my rings, both engagment and wedding band.  That he would walk me down the aisle and "give me away".  The last day that my dad was living, I asked my brother to walk me down the aisle.  It was a heart-breaking conversation, because it was all I could think about while my dad laid there in a death coma.  I focus my grief on these types of things.  Like the fact that I will live at least another 60 years missing him and that that feeling will never go away.   I tried to explain my grief to Martin once on the phone.  He had known my dad only in passing.  When we were kids my stepdad was the "man" in my family.  (Man in quotes, because he was more of an ass than a man.)  Martin thought that it was strange that my brother never really talks about how he feels, yet I am spewing my emotions out like mush.  Martin's dad is around, barely.  He still sees him, but his dad wasn't available on Father's Day or isn't available most of the time, I guess.  Martin never had a strong smart black male role model in his life.  As a white woman it's interesting to see how other people react to him.  Martin is extremely smart, but he hides it behind a shroud of testosterone and ebonics.  He let high school mold him into what he was taught a black man should be.  I guess I don't really know what the hell I am talking about, because I come from a completely different culture and upbringing.  He was recently laid off from a GM subsidiary.  Unemployement will pay for his classes in the fall.  He is going back to school to study business and promotion.  I'm proud of him and wonder if everything would have been different if my brother and I had never moved away.  I wonder if Martin's life would have gone in a different direction if the influence of my brothers genius rubbed off on him.  They remain good friends and I'm sure always will.  Time for grocery shopping and real life....

  

posted by: Islena at July 04, 2005 13:16 | link | comments |

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