When I was growing up I spent a lot of time around my Dad's younger brother, Charles, and his wife Harriett. I adored them, and they me. My folks, and my Uncle and Aunt used to double date back when they were all single. Dad and Charles were very close and my mother was closer to Harriett than she was to her own sister. Being newlyweds at the same time, they hung out together a lot, sitting around in backyards eating watermelon or shooting at archery targets.
I was the first baby born and was the only baby for about three years. I was doted on by everyone. Life was good.
Charles and Harriett had trouble having children. Harriett could get pregnant, she just had an extremely hard time staying that way. Finally about the time I was three, they adopted a four month old little boy. Two years later along came my brother. Amazingly two years after that Harriett had a pregnancy that stuck, and their second little boy was born.
But throughout the whole baby storm, as my Dad and Uncle teasingly called it, I still remained very doted on, especially by Harriett. After her second son she had to have a complete hysterectomy, so I became the daughter she never had.
Our family used to get together at the drop of a hat. One of our favorite pasttimes was to all go camping together, taking along Charles and Harriett's boat. I have many many memories of huddling up with Harriett and talking about important girl things such as toenail polish and hair ribbons, while the boys went off on safaris for bugs and creepy crawlies.
One time we went camping and took our Boston Terrier bulldog with us, which was a huge mistake. We left him tied at the campsite and went out on the boat to go skiing. Big mistake. Even though we left plenty of water for him and he was in the shade, he still managed to suffer a heat stroke. Mom and Dad packed him in ice in the floorboard of Charles and Harriett's Scout and zoomed off in search of a pet ER. I was extremely upset, as the dog was mine and I was very attached to him. I think I was probably about 8 at the time. Charles took the boys off to the campground playground and Harriett calmed me down and dried my tears. I can't remember the words she used, but I'm sure she tried to give me hope, but also tried to prepare me for the worst. We spent hours in the tent, just talking with her rocking me and trying to distract me. The dog ended up being fine, just like Aunt Harriett said.
Harriett never talked down to me and she never dismissed me, as some adults are wont to do with kids. She let me babysit my cousins and she even bought me my first set of grown up panties (not cotton). I swear I wore those purple and ivory satin panties until they were frayed. I'd wash and dry them every night. She always made me feel like her friend, not just a niece she tolerated.
The years rocked on and Charles and Harriett divorced. I was devestated. Harriett was the one who filed for divorce, and while I'm sure I didn't get the whole story as I was only in 8th or 9th grade, I was told that she was tired of having to be the responsible one in the relationship. Of course at the time my still childish mind couldn't wrap around those words. I mean, here I was finally nibbling at the very edge of finding out what love was and a woman that I worshipped and loved crushed my beloved Uncle by saying she couldn't stay with him. Looking back now, I realize that Harriett taught me that it's possible to fall out of "love, love" with someone. It had never occurred to me before then.
At the time, I was furious with her. I hurt because my Uncle and cousins hurt. I also hurt because I felt abandoned. The divorce was an ugly one and someone that I loved was suddenly cut from my life. You see, where I'm from a divorced spouse, especially one who did the divorcing out of the family, became nonexistent. My grandmother broke that nonexistence in a positive way. She had loved Harriett for years and refused to cut off contact with her.
I broke that nonexistence too, although in a very negative way. Me, in all my infinite teenage wisdom and fury, wrote her a letter blasting her for everything. I alternated between ripping her to shreds and begging her to come back. She never responded to the letter.
Of course later in life I went through an amazingly similar divorce. Ironic, no?
Anyway, the years rock on by as they do and there was no contact from Harriett. Then Charles fell gravely ill and was hospitalized for an extremely long time. My Dad got in touch with Harriett to go over some paperwork with her, as Charles had a life insurance policy with the boys as beneficiaries and the youngest was still a minor. That was when the rift started mending.
When Charles passed away my Dad called Harriett to let her know and to let her know that if she wanted to come to the funeral she'd be welcomed with open arms. Harriett felt like she needed to be here for her sons, as any mother would, but she told Dad that there was only one person who she was extremely nervous about coming face to face with.
Yep.
Me.
Dad gave her my phone number and had her call me. By this time I was married with two sons of my own and all thoughts of the ever-romantic type of love put away with other schoolgirl dreams. My marriage was rocky and I was seeing the similarities between mine and theirs. So, Harriett called. We talked and talked. She told me that the reason she didn't answer my letter was that she just simply couldn't. What I said wounded her terribly, even though she knew they were words of a naive child. She thought it best to just absorb the anger and that to try to defend herself or to soothe my ruffled feather would have just made the situation worse. And she didn't want to expose any of my Uncle's flaws to me, which I'd never have forgiven her for while I was in that frame of mind.
She was right, of course.
She also told me that she never stopped loving Charles, she just couldn't stay married to him. That they were better off as co-parents and friends than as husband and wife. That the relationship had been stronger and healthier after the divorce.
Yeah -- foreshadowed my life, it did.
I told her that by all means if she wanted to be at the funeral to please come. That she, as the love of Charles's life and as the mother of his children, deserved to be there. And that she never truly stopped being a member of the family.
I loved seeing her, although it was a bit of a shock to see her with gray hair and showing off pictures of her granddaughter. She adored spending time with my boys. Gomez even asked her if he could call her Aunt Harriett and her face lit up with pride and love. Kimo, who was about 2, couldn't manage to stay off her lap, loving her cuddles. Yeah, it was a pure Walton's moment, but dammit everything seemed right again with regards to that part of my life that was torn.
I continued to keep in touch with her through letters and emails, but as time passed, correspondence from both directions dwindled down to Christmas letters. She had her hands full with two sons who turned out to be .. well .. in her words "vile criminals." My own plate was full dealing with my own divorce and the struggle to be a single parent.
My Mom called me this weekend to let me know that Harriett was diagnosed with advanced stage pancreatic cancer, which had spread throughout her body and has maybe a month to six weeks to live.
Fuck!
First Rob's grandfather, Pepaw, (who was like a grandfather to me since I didn't know mine) passed away. Then Scott. Now Harriett.
Does anyone else see a fucking pattern going on here? Does anyone blame me for feeling like my world is off it's axis?
When Pepaw passed away I sort of withdrew a bit, but had to hold it together for the boys. Then Scott's death turned my world upside down and I'll admit it, I withdrew. I have a lot of acquaintances, but very few people whom I consider as true friends. The reason being is that I fall in love with them. Yeah, it's platonic, but it's still love. I care very deeply for my friends, so I clung tighter to the few people I was already extremely close to, but I withdrew from pretty much everyone else. Even fledgling relationships that I was extremely receptive to and wanting to cultivate. Why? Simple. Because I was already committed to those closest to me and if anything were to happen to them then I'd have to cowboy the fuck up and deal with it, but with more relaxed relationships the thought running through my head and heart was (is?) "Run!! Run like hell! Don't care for them. Don't love them. What if they go away or if they die? Protect yourself! That's just one more hurt and I seriously don't think I can handle it." Logical? Probably not, but I'll easily admit to not being very stable right now. I just feel like I'm in a dark room and being battered from all sides, never knowing from what direction the next blow will come.
It's so hard right now to give a shit about anything. For example, my SuperGold Membership, which I was bounce-off-the-walls thrilled about when I received it as a Pay It Forward Gift, was supposed to expire today and because of a slow posting payment to my credit card I can't renew it right now. Now, Andrew has been sending me notices for ohh I dunno at least a couple of weeks but I had absolutely no motivation to do anything about it at the time. Should have, but of course I put it off. It wasn't something I had to deal with right then so I pushed it back. And now I really couldn't care less about it. It's not on my list of priorities now to get it straightened out. Sooo if ya'll aren't seeing my graphic at the top or can't leave a comment, that's why. Feel free to leave a note or guestbook entry if you are so inclined.
And ya know what, it bothers me that I even put that part in this entry, but that's the way my mind has been ... hyper, yet lethargic. The only thing I've been able to concentrate on is graphics.
Fuck, I gotta get ahold of myself.
Until next time
bisa
Words and Images � bisa-pet