Bad news
I don't normally post really personal things on my LJ, but I received some grim news this morning and I feel like writing a few thoughts down. The phone rang at around three am. I heard it, but ignored it. When I woke up later, I realized that a call at 3am can only mean bad news. The message was from my cousin Steven in Atlanta, asking for my help in contacting my father, because my aunt had just died. I called him back and gave my condolences, and I had to admit to my cousin that I am not in contact with my father, and that I had no idea how to reach my father if he wasn't at his home number. Now, to give context, especially for anyone reading this that does not know me well. My father ran away from home when he was sixteen because of an abusive mother and two abusive sisters. For most of my childhood my father was on very distant terms with his mother, and thus I grew up hearing bad things about this woman and only seeing her a few times. We were never close. Then again, you could say that my father and I were never close. He mostly opted out of child rearing in my early teens and retreated to his den in the basement. My father made peace with his mother when I was in my late teens, but I never really had much enthusiasm for building a relationship with this woman that lived in Tennessee that I'd heard such awful things about. My father's older sister never married and tragically died young of brain cancer. His younger sister was briefly married and had my only first cousin on that side, Steven. So, I've not been in touch with my grandmother, my aunt Sandra, or my cousin Steven for years. I haven't seen them since my mother died in 1996. All this serves to remind me that I have, by my own choices, cut myself off from my entire extended family, with the notable exception of my brother. All the reasons for these choices, valid though they seem most of the time, ring a bit hollow when my father has lost his only remaining sibling, my cousin his only parent, and my grandmother another child. I was certainly not close to my aunt, and I have no intention of traveling to Atlanta for the funeral, but the fact of her death depresses me as much for the broader implications about my relationship with my family as it does for the specifics of her departure. My cousin Steven seemed to be bearing up well on the phone. I could hear my grandmother in the background asking who it was, and him having to explain three times just who it was that was on the phone. I gave my cousin my email address and told him to keep me informed. In hindsight, I don't even know why I did that, since I'm not going to the funeral. Do I really think that I'm going to build a relationship with my cousin after all these years? At the end of our conversation, my cousin mentioned that my grandmother will likely be calling me later. I don't know what to do with this. I'm not going to refuse to talk to her. I feel like I'm going to get overwhelmed by guilt while speaking with her and make promises to visit or keep in touch that I won't want to keep. Or would I? The other side of the coin is what would it cost me to be in casual contact with my grandmother and my cousin? A phone call on the holidays, and a card at Christmas. That doesn't seem too much, if it would make my grandmother feel a little more connected to her family in the last years of her life. My cousin and his wife are now saddled with the care of my grandmother, who apparently has back problems. I don't know what I can do to help, but if some moral support from afar will help, why shouldn't I do it?
The emotional impact of this is being compounded by my just recovering from a nasty cold, and missing my Shannon while she's gone for two weeks. My defenses are down a little bit, and I'm more given to brooding than usual. Nevertheless, perhaps something positive will come of tragedy. It often does.
Edit: A day later and I've had time to remind myself of all the horrible anecdotes told about my grandmother. She didn't call yesterday, but she likely will at some point. I will be polite. I will make no promises. I will send a card at Christmas.