My Grandmother

My grandmother is a pain in the ass.  For my entire life, I have tried to be a good kid and live up to her expectations.  Tried not to get involved when she bashes my sisters or mother.  I will say that she did help out my parents when we were younger.  They divorced when I was ten and while we were poor before, the divorce definitely put us over the line.  She was always the one to take us school or prom dress shopping.  And since then, she has always shown her love with presents.


She has also been known to write horrible, hateful letters.  At a point, even my own dad wasn't talking to her and she's his mother.  They have since made up, apparently, because he now lives with her and takes care of her.  She is 84 years old now and quite with it.  She does suffer from diabetes, which I know my dad tries to help take care of.  My sisters seem to think it's pretty much uncontrolled and blames much of her mean behavior on the disease.  Maybe.  Maybe not.


What I do know is that her other child, my aunt, is an alcoholic.  My grandmother completely ignores this fact.  Perhaps it would make her seem like a bad mother if she acknowledged that her daughter carries alcohol in her purse and car.  Or if she acknowledged that her daughter is incapable of showing up to a family function sober.  Or that if her daughter does begin the event sober, that soon after it starts, she is finding reasons to sneak to the bathroom or the car.


And so, we call her the "Drunk Aunt", possibly to lighten the mood and explain her behaviors to the people around us who actually show up to these events to celebrate with us.  The story to explain her to anyone new makes it seem like she's the black sheep of the family and that we really have no control over when, where and how she'll show up intoxicated.


My grandmother has not spoken to me in over a year now.  I sat straight across from her in May at my dad's birthday dinner and she uttered not one word.  At my baby shower last week, I again sat directly in front of her and she said not one thing.  My aunt was trying to find out when our daughters were dancing at the fair.  I told her the date and time, but that I didn't know which stage.  My aunt proceeds to tell me that my dad never tells him anything.  That he's the weak link and she never knows anything about what's going on.  Let's just say that my dad has now, finally, clued in on our lack of desire to deal with her.


"All she wants is an invitation," says my grandmother.


Maybe she should show up sober, I think to myself.  But, I hear my husband in my head telling me to be the bigger person.  That she'll be dead in a few years and we'll wish we had the chance to be good to her.  Gurrrr.  I ignore my grandmother and though my tongue was not bleeding from biting it, inside I was screaming.


I think back to our visit last year and think that all of this stemmed from the fact that we did not go to a bbq planned by The Drunk Aunt.  At her house.  My hubby and I refused to go into a situation with her that we cannot escape.  I had to deal with that growing up and my own children do not need to be put in that situation.  I wish someone had protected me from it when I was little.  Why wouldn't I do it for my own children?


Having made such a decision means that I have to deal with my grandmother's silence.  Last night was the first time she directly spoke to me since that bbq incident last summer and it was only to say that she wondered if I was coming.  And that was that.  At the end of the evening, she made her rounds to say goodnight.  She even said goodbye to my sister's mom in law and her daughters.  Looked around and then left. 


It was then that my dad was packing up and told me that she wouldn't be at the hospital when this baby is born.  That it's too much and too long of a day for her to be there.  Ummm.... I am having a scheduled c-section, so what?  It'd take an hour or so? 


I tell my dad that it's okay because with the c-section, I'll be there a couple of days.  He pretty much ignores that part and reassures me that he'll be there.  He'll be there for the whole thing.


Then, I understand.  She wants nothing to do with me or this new baby.  She came to the baby shower purely for the food.  She loves cake and it is the reason she even shows up to those kind of shindigs. Sad, but true.  This is most likely her last great grandchild and she does not want to be there.


In a way, I am relieved.  I don't want all that awkwardness when she's not talking to me, but wants to hold my baby.  To have heroogle and google over the baby and not ask me how I am feeling after having my guts ripped open.


At least my drunk aunt is speaking to me.  Maybe when she visits me in the hospital (because I am the bigger person right?!) she'll show up sober.  And if not, thank goodness I'll be breastfeeding and have a reason to kick everyone out of the room.


But, my grandmother.  I dunno.  I'm trying not to feel angry.  Or hurt.  After all, it's her decision to behave like this.  I just need to let it go.