i hadn't talked to my grandmother in over a year. i wish i could say that was still true so i could suspend the belief that there is still a way to be friends with her.
from age 0-7 i was at her house every day. dropped off in the morning still asleep in pajamas, groggily lay on the couch, carried to the car, wake up dressed and in the car on the street corner for street witnessing. go out in service until 12. stop for lunch that my gran prepared. go on return visits and bible studies for the afternoon. hurry home to start dinner. go around the corner to the liquor store for a push up, my gran a snickers bar or a mini pecan pie. go back home for a nap. she always laid down with me and by the time i woke up she was always gone and by then, the house always smelled of food. her husband would come home and say nothing to me. he would eat my grandmothers food in silence get up from the table and then go back outside to his little room to do god knows what (he was back there getting drunk. fine elder that one) if he did come in the house i had to stop watching cartoons because he insisted on watching news from 4 until 11. what a dick. i would wait for my mom to come and get me and then i'd go home, go to bed and do it again the next day. the only time i was home was the weekends and i couldnt wait for monday.
after we left los angeles it was a given that i was going to spend summer with gran. almost every vacation was at her house. she understood me and my little problems better than anyone. she was always the same. she could turn crying or anger into stillness, then into calm, then to logic, then to reluctant smiles and finally to raucous laughter. we'd shell pecans and get almost too ripe mangoes and eat them together, juice dripping down our faces... ecstasy. any time i had a problem with my mom, i'd call my grandma and she'd walk me through it. she once told me that she felt like we saw eye to eye and she'd given more of herself to me than to any of her children or grandchildren. to me that made me special.
i called her last night. actually i had been calling her all day. she was never home. instead i had to talk to her husband. mind you this man has been disfellowshipped twice in my life time and once before i was even alive for fucking people in my grandma's hall. removed as an elder twice and appointed three times. my grandma never leaves him. he hates me because i represent the happy union that my grandmother had with my natural grandfather before him. i am the product of one of the children that my grandmother bore before him. i am the reminder that the only reason that my grandma married him was that she thought that he'd due as a male role model of spirituality for her household. god was she wrong
last time i was in los angeles, i tried to see my grandmother. i knocked and he came to the security door. he said to me, "can i help you?" yeah, its dominick, open the door. "i dont think so. how can i help you?" i just want to see my grandmother. "we'll she's not here" well, i'll just come in and wait for her. -this is when the door opens- "look dom, you don't seem to understand the position you find yourself in" im out. i turned around and left him standing there. but see, this dick is the gate keeper so i have to go through him.
is it okay if i call her back later? "yeah, she should be home in about an hour" i'll call back then.
i call and he says "hold on". "jessie!" he calls out. "hold the line a minute." he tells me
my grandma's voice could melt anyone. she sings almost like billie holiday. fuck i love her voice.
"hello" gran its me. "uhuh. well, i just got in from being out all day, call me back in an hour. call my cell phone." i don't have that number gran. "it should be on that paper that i sent you." what paper? "i sent you a magazine a week ago about coming back to Jehovah. didn't you get it?" i haven't checked my mail in over a week gran. so no, not yet. "well get a pen"
i write the number down and i feel each second tick by. i know my grandma better than anyone else. what is she doing with this hour? praying, reviewing the article, listening to her husband tell her how to proceed, shoring up her defenses, applying industrial strength root killer to all emotions relating to what once was her greatest hope...
i am my grandmothers failed plans. i am the product of her greatest effort. i am the result of all of her cumulative resolve and will power.
8 o'clock comes and i start dialing...
grandma part 1, the saga continues
by coolhandluke 4 Replies latest members private
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coolhandluke
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candidlynuts
no one understands better how warped love can be in jw families as much as the group here does.
hang in there CHL and i hope you get to talk to her . hugs
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coolhandluke
thanks candi. i did talk to her. that's part two. oh what fun.
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luna2
Uh oh, doesn't sound like this had a completely happy ending.
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coolhandluke
Uh oh, doesn't sound like this had a completely happy ending.
not yet, but where there is breath there is hope. I'll post part 2 tommorow, you can see for yourself.