to be ashamed of my grandmother... but I am. She may be dying. I might feel sorry for her. I can't imagine the terrible pain she's feeling due to the pressure of a brain tumor that has grown to push itself out through the broken skull she has encasing her mind/brain.
But the fact remains to be seen that I'm overwhelmed with sorrow that she's hurt so many souls. That she's so judgmental and cruel as to see someone as vile because of their deformity, or lack of self esteem. To mock and defame and decry them, is unfathomable... Inexcusable and utterly intolerable.
So, instead of speaking in softly positive words of a woman I am grateful I've learned is the pattern I'd searched for in my spouse (NOW ex)... I'll tell of time with my sister and cousin instead.
Because we were raised as "Mormons," my grandmother instantly took to fuming because my sister told her we we going out for a coffee together. Coffee = SIN... even though Gramma used to feed us the dregs of her coffee in the mornings, by pouring it into our hot cocoa or Postum.
Anyway, we left her apartment to walk down to a Starbuck's we'd found using our smart phones.. which one was faster? my cousin's not mine! I loved the brisk morning walk, and the conversation we shared. The feel of the crisp air, and warm sunlight on our bodies was a delight. Outside the coffee shop there was a street paper salesman, offering the paper to us, at the suggested retail price of a dollar. Though he'd also mentioned he'd be happy with 50 cents. sister said can't afford it, I pulled out my wallet and was rummaging, when out popped a dollar in my cousin's hand, as she cheerfully accepted it. We ordered our coffees and scones... And once called out and gotten we enjoyed talking together. Our similar voices chattering over everything. Past activities as children, to how our own are doing. The newspaper left on a table as we walked out, we enjoyed a lively gait. We took our time and stopped into a fascinating shop. Recycled old beads, strung on thread, or chained, and resold at very high ticket prices.. Made me pause to wonder just how much I could earn from doing so with some of my things, and adding some of our grandmother's old costume jewelry to new fresh water pearls or gemstone beads.
Anyway, the walk did us good. I just wish our grandmother hadn't chosen to attack me so terribly once we'd gone back to her place.... And worse... in front of them she chose to put my poor dear towering friend's visage and mien on the spot. She had no right to defile his character, nor be rude about his looks. I'm ashamed of that tiny and cruel thoughtless woman. But I can say one thing. I'm reminded yet again of how much I used to be used to, in my daily life. How thankful I am that I don't have to pretend I'm OK with humiliation and with her wicked acrid tongue. I love my friend. I love my family. And I can thankfully say that my cousin came through and stood up for me. And insisted I had a right to be heard. I told that mean little woman how offensive she was to say such things of a man who'd sacrificed so much for me. And that because of her cruelty in talking with him last week, our friendship has grown thin. I will always love my friends. I may even love my grandmother. but I do not have to live with her abuse. And I will not tolerate her cruel mocking of a soul that's in the depths of despair and damaged. I'm not sure what to do about my friendship. But I know I'm respected for who I am by a few souls. And I'm grateful for the things we women learned after putting up with abuse in our marriages. Abuse that merely patterned our childhood in her home.
We did do other things. in an effort to make the day brighter, again. We poured through ancient albumns of photos. A few baubles were chosen to give to great grand children, mine already has her broken ring that I will rebuild and recreate for her. There were strings of pearls all due to grandmother hearing of our bright day of perusing the gems and pearl strands in that store along the avenues... And so there were a few good things.
Though my mood had been ruined upon hearing news of a child institutionalized. Of sorrows in the family that are shadows and whispers... And my night was filled with tears and sobs until I wore myself to exhaustion. And, my morning was again teary and with trembling voice I called my sweetheart in the Chicago area... just to hear his voice. To feel his chuckle ringing through me... And for the reminder that there might be someone in this world who can love me for who I am. Broken and in pain. I am who I am because of the things I've gone through. I am who I am, because I can't let go of the determination that lingers deep inside of me.. that someday, somewhere... there might just be a fragment of hope for me. Glittering in the sunset of my life.
Anyway, I'm trying to see through rose colored glass, to see the good that came from this weekend. It isn't easy. But I must, to be able to do more than cope. | 
