This is real: Depressed moments in life. My grandpa is dying soon.

Tweet

My grandpa is ill, dying. I received an email confirming it. Maybe as little as two weeks. To this, I sat at the computer obsessed with a reply. Sadly, I have more hope of positive and supportive responses from anonymous members of the MyLot community. And so, I reproduce it here. ---- To my Aunt, Thank you for sending along the message. My mother forwarded it to me. As a grandchild, I stand a bit father back from the matter, but it is hard not to be sad. I've heard you had taken Grandpa in and were looking after him, but news does not trickle well down the grapevine in my family tree. I had suggested to my father that he devote his time to being with Grandpa because I feared something ominous looming. This was reinforced by some information provided by Alexandra. My father, of course, would have had to set aside his alcohol. He was unable to do that and so, when he suggested this himself, there was little interest. I feel so far away right now. I suppose Stu will find a means to make a visit. So, in reality, I am not so far away. It just feels that way. Last time I saw Grandpa, he had the same conversation with me several times within a few minute's time. He was glad to have had my father come see him. He tried to praise my father and, perhaps, hinted and some shadows of doubt or regret. It was perhaps, the most honest and endearing moment I've shared with Grandpa. I guess I had some doubts if my dad or my grandpa would pass first. Dad might have done great damage to his pancreas and cerebellum, but so far as I know his heart is good and not in danger of collapse soon. I suppose that means on some level, I wanted to pretend Grandpa's health was less uncertain. But now it seems I have no room for such delusions. There were so many kids. Thirteen and all their spouses and grandchildren. And I, the child of an alcoholic, well, I felt kind of invisible. I walked into the showers of physical education class with inch wide belt marks all down my back and no one said a thing. On my mother's side, there were eight children and their spouses and their scions. There, too, I felt diminished in a crowd of people who couldn't seem to see. I never thought my grandma held much particular affection for me. Even so, when she was sick in the hospital, I came to visit her. For some reason, which I can explain, she found my presence comforting. I don't know why. She never seemed to have special affection for me. My wife says there is something comforting about me. I couldn't see it, of course. But, I regret not finding more time to visit Grandma before she died. Grandpa was invited to my wedding seven years ago. He put off a lung biopsy to go on a fishing trip and, thus, was having a lung biopsy procedure and unable to attend my wedding. He chose fishing over my wedding. He will likely have many visitors in the coming weekends. (Possibly his last.) I suppose it is hard for me not to feel invisible again. But, I would not have expected my Grandma on my mother's side to find comfort in my presence either. I don't want to drive to see Grandpa and be lost amid all the children and grandchilden wishing him goodbye. It would probably sting a bit. And, yet, I feel I should go. I want to see him if only to represent that my father's branch of the family tree did not entirely wither and die. One of thirteen produced two of six who bore four children combined. I suppose you must be wondering why I've confided in you these thoughts. Surely you have enough to deal with as your father is ill and dying. However, I fear I've spent too much of my life behind a wall of silence pretending the abnormal was normal. I suppose, in some small way, I believe this might make me less invisible if I share it with you. In a nutshell, I am exceedingly perturbed by the mortality of my grandfather on my father's side. --- Summary: Abusive an unhealthy relationships often leave on feeling trapped behind a wall of silence. In order to feel better about yourself, you pretend to be "normal" and feign that dark times have not happened to you. I feel this is a terrible trap for those with abusive childhoods.. but I don't know quite how to break free of it.