I Forgave and She Forgot

My cousin wanted to know if she could show my blog to my 92 year old grandmother. After all, what grandma would not want to read her grand daughter's musings? 

I have a complex relationship with my grandmother. My mom died when I was 16 and I went to live with her. 

Note to parents: Get guardians for your kids. 

If you can help it don't let it be the grandparents.  Even though it sounds good in theory, think about it? You have a grieving child  or teen with their unique needs and then you have a grieving parent who as lost a child too soon. How can anyone's process and healing be honored? I was told loud and clear, in no uncertain terms, that her grief was worse than mine. Period. End of conversation. Where do you go with that when you are 16? No where good. That we have a relationship today is a testament to my ability to forgive and her ability to forget.

So what does that mean for us today? Look, I love this woman. She is all I have left from my mom. 

In order for us to heal from the deep bruises we endured by being slammed together when we were grieving, I do not share my pain with her. I can't. She cannot take it in, and to be quite honest, why should she? She has lost both of her daughters. She can leave this world without hearing my angst about parenting, love, loss and so on. 

Pass on the cute stories about my son, when I cut his hair to short. Share the ones that make you smile and laugh. But when you read one that gives you a sense of how my loss shapes my life day in and day out, please remember that in order for her to live her life she has had to take my experience of loss and erase it from her heart. I can live with that. I have to.