tonight i am thinking of someone....
he has been struggling with so much. my biggest wish for him was that he'd be able to just be sad...but he had to contend with saying goodbye not as the man he has become, but as his grandmother's namesake, a name he's tried to leave behind. and it wasn't even just the name or just the pronouns...he was expected to BE her again. for the sake of the family. as to not cause a scene. because it's what is best. don't wear a suit. don't allow any of your friends to refer to you in any way as male. don't make your relationship public or obvious. you are roommates, as far as everyone is concerned. use the women's room. be my straight daughter. make me look good. so much pressure and so much pain, and all he was trying to do was honor one of the first women he ever loved.
i can tell you that she wouldn't have hated her grandson. she wouldn't have understood it, i imagine, but i think if she had had her say, i think she would have picked the time and honesty over distance and keeping up appearances. he feels guilty for not seeing her more. but how could he, when his mother played it the way she did? to walk in their house meant leaving the life he was creating at the door so his mother wouldn't have to see it. because she's not ready to lose her daughter. i wish she could understand that she already has, that she lost her daughter when he got old enough to pay attention to the world around him and the world within. i wish she knew how beautiful her son is, and how hard he tries to make peace. that he is, above all, a family man. i see this in how far he is willing to go for the comfort of others. how much he can try to hold off to be the bedford county farm boy he was born to be, and have a family farm to come home to. all he wants is to come home to them and be loved. somedays i think this will never happen, and he can never be accepted there as he is. and this breaks my heart.
i can concede naming my relationship in front of his grandfather and family friends. in that, i have surprisingly found strength. to be able to sit in dead silence and know that our love is palatable; that we don't have to say one word for everyone to know. nana knew, too. i know by how she'd look at me, studying, asking me who my people were. i knew she knew when she sent me a birthday card last year (no one else has ever gotten one, even the best friends) and when she gave me her treasured recipe for her sweet potato pudding (FAMOUS on thanksgiving) in her own handwriting on an index card.
in the hospital a month or so ago, she called me a smartass but wouldn't let me leave without giving her a kiss. in the nursing home, she sat in a chair with a broken shoulder (she fell while trying to get out of bed) that they couldn't do anything about except put it in a sling. she was in intense pain and i sat on the floor holding her other hand and told her to squeeze as hard as she wanted. she was stronger than i anticipated and damn near took my fingers off, but not before telling j and i that she loved us, both of us. she was looking right at me.
the next day, mother's day, we made a family pilgrimage to visit, and the nurse asked nana who the handsome young man was helping her. the room stopped as i waited for the sky to fall. j hung his head and said, actually, i'm her granddaughter...and the nurse apologized 20 times, just making it worse and worse. i watched nana just smile at him and say, yeah...that happens a lot, huh? later, when we were the last two to leave, she called him back in.
"who cut your hair?" she asked.
"our friend ray."
"oh...........well, he did a good job."
i stood in the doorway stunned. that one sentence delivered him from so much fear. she knew me and what i am to him, she knew somehow that she didn't have no usual granddaughter, no matter what her daughter told her, and moreso, she didn't care. she loved j fiercely, just as he is, and made damn sure he knew it, too. this was the lady who was writhing in pain, in and out of conciousness and would look up confused, see j smiling down at her, and would somehow smile back. i watched that from the foot of the bed and cried. couldn't help it. do you know how many years of love it takes to get that much comfort from a smile? it was beautiful to witness, beautiful to be a part of. i'm so glad i met her, and got to know her.
the day she died, j's mother called and left the news on the voicemail. i got the call, and had to figure out how to tell him. i was, needless to say, a complete wreck. i ended up driving to where he works and waiting for him in the parking lot to come back to lunch. it was 90 degrees out and i don't have air conditioning and i didn't know what to say and so i did the only thing i could: i prayed. i asked nana to help me figure out how to tell him, and how to help him through this. i told her that i loved him and want to marry him and was so priviliged to be her granddaughter in law, even if she didn't know it at the time. we talked for a while, and when it was time, the words just came.
today, my love gave his grandmother's eulogy. it was perfect: beautifully written, funny, detailed and honest. the sense of his personal loss was heartbreaking. he started by saying that he was emotional, and didn't know how he'd do. he broke down, and his father walked the aisle up to the pulpit, held him up and helped him finish. it was one of the most beautiful, loving moments i have ever witnessed. his mother, in spite of herself, told me in front of everyone that i was to sit with the family. i started out the service sitting behind j, but when he was done reading, he dropped into the space beside me and buried his wet face in my hair and just let go as 'seasons of love' from rent began to play. i held him there with all the love in my heart, knowing that all that love could never heal all of his pain, but also knowing that i am, above all, his soft place to land. i am so honored to be the woman he loves, the woman he laughs with and cries to. i am so proud of him, and proud of his father, and proud of his mother for finding it in herself as she was saying goodbye to her mother to state publicly that the ones who were there to love and care for j were family. for all of her faults and stumbles and mistakes, she is trying. i believe this. i'm learning them, they're learning me, and today we just sat together and cried because we lost one of our own.
tonight he begins grieving just as he is; the past that could have been different and the future that held possibility. the woman he loved and all he'll miss. all the birthdays and holidays and all she didn't know about him, and all she accepted any way. here's to wonderful grandmothers who smell of oil of olay and send surreptitious birthday cards; here's to mothers who break through at just the right moment; here's to brave boys who aren't afraid of their emotion and are brave enough to do it anyway; and here's to fathers who know when to step in and hold us up...and to love that doesn't have to be expressed to be felt.
*
"i had a good life
before you came
i had my friends and my freedom
i had my name
still there was sorrow and emptiness
til you made me glad
oh, in this love i found strength i never knew I had
and this love
is like nothing i have ever known
take my hand, love
i'm taking you home..."
