Friday, May 06, 2005

Not sure what to think

My Grandmother died this week.  This would be my Father’s mother.
I’m not really sure what to think about it.  On one hand I feel guilty for all the things I had always meant to do and never did.  I never wrote her, I never visited, I never made an effort.  On the other hand, because I knew so little about her, and my father’s family, I don’t feel anything.  And somehow that makes me feel bad as well.
So – about me and my father’s family…
My father’s family is not what I would call close.  At least not to me.  I have a feeling that has a lot to do with my mom’s relationship with dad and how they met, how they got together, and all that jazz.  There isn’t anything I can do about that, and most of it I have learned as I have gotten older and really started to question the relationship.  My dad was married before mom; he had three children with a previous wife.  They are all older than me by a significant amount.
Dad wasn’t what I’d call a “stable” person.  From what I understand now, and what I know personally, I’m sure there were mental issues.  I don’t know that he truly understand cause and effect, and he did things sometimes without thinking.  But serious things, like quitting his job when my mom was 7 months pregnant.  Changing jobs, for lesser pay, after he and my mom bought a new house, a new car, and had two kids.  Eventually he separated from mom.  I think mom told me that he told her he just wasn’t happy anymore.  I’m not sure if he knew how.  When I was 11 he committed suicide. 
At that point (and it’s a different story altogether) I wasn’t old enough to travel on my own.  My brother and I did not attend the funeral (not by our choice, believe me.) That was it.
I didn’t hear anything from anyone on that side of the family until years later. 
Years later when Dad’s mom, Margery, was put into a nursing home.  I thought she had been in one all along.  She should have been.  As a “Legal Heir” my Uncle, whom I have never met, never had any contact with, was forced to call me and let me know he would be sending me legal documentation once a year detailing my grandmother’s expenses.  But that was it.  There was no love, no how are you, no we’re sorry we’ve never thought once about contacting you.  Now this is done and he can forget about my existence all together. 
I met dad’s mom, Margery, once when I was 8.  I had been traveling with my dad.  It was great; we had a great time together.  We played in the park and ran around.  She seemed nice.  That was it.  I am sure we wrote, my mom was so good about writing letters, especially when she thought it was important.  But that’s it.  I don’t remember meeting her or talking to her at any other time.  She was mentally unstable herself, she had been struck by lightening twice.
And now I don’t know how to feel. 
When I got the call, my brother told me, I wanted to feel something.  But I didn’t.  No sense of real loss, so hurt, just the lingering guilt that I should have done something and I never did.
I should call my sister, but I don’t know what to say.  I don’t know how close she was with Margery.  So I am neglecting that, putting that off, along with so many other things, because I don’t know quite what to think about them.
Not sure what to think about this, not sure at all.