Hard Conversations with Grandma

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My grandma...

My sweet Grandma is finally home from the hospital...

Without a boatload of drama though.

But I can still hear voice, even now, as she sighs and looks at me and says

"I'm so happy to be home."

That's because she wasn't home at first. When she was released from the hospital, she was released to my mother.

O_o.

My mother had been doing a ton of whining about taking care of Grandma. But my Mother and my Aunt and my Uncle have been beefing for a minute, so Grandma basically turned into a pawn.

A pawn. Geez.

Grandma was suppose to go home to her own house. But my mother had been down at the hospital bogarting the room. We all figured out the times she was there, so we would visit when she wasn't there. For me, it meant going really late at night, after 10.

Yes, they'd been arguing and fighting down at the hospital.

That is some craziness. And you know me... LadyLee is nowhere around that foolishness. AT ALL.

So interestingly, my Aunt and Uncle had gone down to the hospital to visit Grandma, and grandma was gone. Gone with my mother. This pissed my Aunt and Uncle off and they went out to my mother's house. With the police.

Sigh. Drama.

Somehow Kentucky got involved in all this. I was coming from Baby Bandit's graduation party, when I noticed a bunch of text messages on my phone. I stopped at a gas station and called cousin Kim, who was super concerned, and who was still a bit shaken up from being threatened by my Mother a few days before. (Yes, Kentucky had to talk our cousin down from much crying; I had to talk her down some more after that.)

So I tried to call Kentucky so I could tell her to leave. I couldn't reach her. This means that I had no choice but to head over there... and snatch her out of the way of this mess.

But Kentucky called me. And she was a bit perturbed.

Now, she and I have been battling back and forth (in an agreeable manner) over all of this.

"These some grown azz negroes," I've been hollering. "These negroes was grown before we was even born. Let these grown azz negroes figure this out. Stay out of the way!"

Kentucky snickers in the middle of her rebuttle to me. She doesn't do too well when I get so mad that I fall headfirst into ebonics language. She doesn't know whether to take me seriously or not.

I am really proud of my sister, though. She singlehandedly mediated and brokered a turnover of Grandma from my Mother to my aunt with no violence. I am amazed.

I didn't think she could do that. And that was the reason I was on my way over to snatch her out the house, put her in her car, and make her go home.

But like I said, she did. Yet, Kentucky was perturbed.

"Lisa, these folks done ruined my high. I had a good massage today, was feeling all good, and they just ruined it. Now I have to go get another one."

This was funny. Because she said it several times. She goes to my girl Dawn for the phat massages. According to my best friend LadyTee, Dawn is Black Jesus. Kentucky thinks so, too. So I could tell Kentucky was pissed, yet calm.

We talked about it all. My Mother is crazy violent, so she'd grabbed the guns. Not sure how Kentucky calmed her down....

"I just saw her grabbing bullets, Lisa," she said. "And I was like whoooooaaa... gome on Grandma, let's go sit outside on the front porch."

Grandma followed Kentucky. And Grandma was taken home by my Aunt. Grandma was happy about it.

I'd gone over to Grandma's house after everything had calmed down... a few days after the fact. I bought over a bag of vegetables and spring mix for her salads, and a plate of hot vegetables from the vegetarian bar at the Whole Foods. I figured my aunt could use some extra vegetables for meals. I also brought a gallon of spring water. Everybody can use a some water, you know.

I was only going to stay for just a little while, since I didn't get over there until around 8:30 pm (I'd gotten off from work at 7).

When I got there, Grandma was sitting in her special chair, all bright eyed and bushy-tailed.

"Look at you, big girl," I said, "sitting all up in that chair."

She laughed.

"Look at you! You don't need to be sitting up in that chair. You need to put on your clothes and let's get on in these streets! Go to the Krogers for grocery, go to the movies and go to the Christian book store for some books."

She got all excited then. A bit too excited, looking around like she was looking for her clothes and her pocketbook so we could get up and go!

LOL!

I sat down. And as usual, I try to bring some crochet. I was working on Mrs. A's green and white baby blanket, and I was going to stay long enough just to do a couple of my white stripes. That meant I was staying for no more than an hour.

I sat down...

And grandma started talking. Just yacking away.

What was interesting is that I did what I always did when I went over there and she talked: I crocheted.

But this time was different. She kept saying....

"Lisa, look at me... listen to me. Look at me, now. Look at me when I'm talking to you."

O_o. What the world?

I didn't understand why she was acting like that. But it slowed down my crocheting.

Then my aunt came in from the kitchen. She gave my grandma a small bowl of yogurt and blueberries. I was packing up to go. I'd finished my two white rows, and I didn't have anymore green yarn... so uh... it was REALLY time to go.

I tried to tell them that I needed to go on home because I had to work the next day.

Do you know they didn't pay me no mind? I was hemmed up for at least another hour, until around a little before 11 pm... Sigh.

And it was interesting though... because Grandma gets over into talking about the past. And I have NEVER heard her be brutally honest about the past.

She is doing a ton of pontificating. I had to hear it ALL, you hear me?

"Have you talked to your Mama, Lisa?" Grandma asked. "Is she alright? I just want to know if she is alright."

"No I haven't. Now, you know I don't fool with her."

Especially since she was acting up and threatening folks with her guns. I don't want no parts of that.

"I was just asking. Been trying to call her, and she won't answer."

That's because she mad with ya'll, I thought.

I am not sure why they were asking me this. I deal with my mother on very rare occasions. I guess Grandma had heard us laughing and talking at the hospital.

Don't let the smooth taste fool you, Grandma. I don't get down with my Mama. We just happened to cross paths at the hospital. And I know how to make small talk.

One vein of conversation had my nose flaring:

Why my mother is the way she is.

My nostrils were flaring with that whole monologue. And my Aunt was sitting there with a pained looked on her face. And anytime I looked away, Grandma was saying,

"Lisa, listen... look at me, listen..."

Ugh. I didn't want to listen. I wanted to go home and get ready for tomorrow. I wanted to fix my lunch and do some light cleaning. I really needed to feed Oscar-Tyrone. I wanted to get ready for bed, and I wanted to watch the news to see what the weather would be the next day.

I wanted to go home and back to my life. I wanted no parts of this conversation.

And I was sitting there hemmed up on the sofa, looking for a way to jump out a window or dig through the floor or something. I REALLY wanted to go home.

"Look," I told my aunt and my grandmother. "This woman [my mother] has made me feel bad about myself for all my life. I've worked hard to love myself. And when they (she and her idiot 3rd husband) accused me of stealing that time, and she tried to fight me over it, I was completely done with her. That was 8 years ago. I'm still done."

They just looked at me. I am very reserved around family, lesser so when my mother isn't around, but reserved nevertheless. I keep it light and fluffy and fun. No serious talk from me.

"Lisa," my aunt said "You know that was because Ray [my Mother's ex-husband} had a plan to get rid of all of ya'll one by one. He told your mama that he didn't want her kids around."

I nodded. I knew this because Kentucky had told me years ago. He systematically got rid of us all. I got accused of stealing. Milk and Cookies caught the brunt of it. Ray would order porn, and blame it on my brother. Ray would drank up all the liquor and tell my Mama "That's your son drinking up all the liquor."

This use to piss me off. My little brother, who was 16 or 17 at the time, was a really good kid. And being the good kid that he was, he would laugh it off. "I told her, Lisa, 'Now Mama, have you ever known me to drink or order porn, or even lie about stuff like that'?"

My brother had a truck and Ray was after it. But he was leery of my brother. My brother slept with his truck keys, his gun, and those medieval swords he collected. Even a complete idiot like Ray knew to leave him alone... and stick to his lies.

Kentucky didn't like him. He looked at her strangely and made a couple of strange remarks. Whatever he was doing made her uncomfortable. I was gonna bust him in the head with a brick if he made a pass at my sister. Beat a negro"s tail, ask questions later. Really.

Me and my sister stayed away for the most part. One of my most interesting memeories was me and Kentucky standing in the driveway, and her teaching me how to wear my purse so that I wouldn't have to take it off. Ray was and alcoholic and on drugs or crack or something. You don't lay your purse or keys down around people like that. No indeed.

"Ray was the worst person I have every met in my life," I said, while sitting there hemmed up on Grandma's couch. "The absolutely worst. That man was horrible!"

Grandma nodded. I knew she didn't like him either. She said such in her own gentle manner some 9 years ago.

And you know... Ray had the nerve to die a few months ago. I wanted to go to his funeral, and make a comment when the preacher asked for comments about the deceased.

*LadyLee steps to the mike*

"Ray was the worst nigga I ever met in my life. This muthaf**** laying in this casket right here? This nigga  here was crazy!"

*LadyLee throws mike to the ground and walks back to pews*

My sister knows me well. She told me the dude died after the fact, and after the memorial. Because you know I woulda showed up and said all that.... and repented later.

This guy was a sociopath. And I don't go nowhere near sociopaths. When they step in the room, even the cockroaches and the goldfish have a bad day. Ray knew how to leave emotional carnage. Even his own kids were a hot mess.

Grandma continued to talk. I listened attentatively... all the while watching the seconds hand on the clock atop the television go round and round and round.

"Let me tell you something, Grandma," I said. "You are sick and trying to get better. You are 83 years old.  You are too old to be worrying about all this. You need to focus on your health. Don't beat yourself up over my Mama tripping out. That's just her way. I'm like the Queen of England, honey. Certain stuff is unacceptable in my presence and I don't deal with it. And you don't need to be worried about it either."

She nodded.

Kentucky told me that Grandma and our mother had been beefing. Grandma had told my mother earlier in the year not to come around with the drama. My mother was angry about that.

I was shocked! My sweet mild mannered Grandma getting bucked?

Mother hadn't been nice to her. She said Grandma talked too much, and she didn't move fast enough. Grandma talked about that. I could hear the quiver in her voice, when she talked about it. I could tell it hurt for her own child to treat her this way.

"Auntie," I said, while still looking for a way to make my exit from this hard conversation and go home. "Now, i was taking grandma to the doctor. I didn't treat her bad or anything. I got her there, and got her back into the house. I made sure we went and got her medicine. I even had to come up off some cash for some procedures. And it wasn't no little bit of money either. And I didn't mind at all. You know I sow some seed. Was happy to be in the right place at the right time to be of use."

"She right, Joy," my grandma said. "She did."

There was other beef, too. Our mother had a new man that she wanted Grandma (and everyone else) to meet. Grandma dodged the man. And let's just say... uh, Ray messed it up for everybody. He sure did. So everybody had been dodging our mother. And my sister had met this new dude, and didn't get a good vibe. So you know meeting me was out of the question.

"My goal," I told my aunt and Grandma, "is to take care of my sister and her emotions. That's the only reason anyone sees me. My assignment is to walk behind my sister and pick her emotions up off the floor, while she is on this weird quest of hope to help my mother."

And I always tried to look out for Milk and Cookies. But he is a grown man now, with his own family, living out in Seattle.

"Shawty is in Seattle," I told my sister. "He might as well be on the moon!"

And this situation has Milk and Cookies all O_o.  And he's been runing around fighting wars in the middle east. That dude has NO filter. So he says whatever. He don't care if Ma gets mad.

He told my sister "I don't have time for all this!"

You sure don't, dude. None of us do.

Grandma nodded. I think they got my point. Family rarely sees me. I don't have time for ratchetness. I am quick to be up in somebody else's family function. I am trying to enjoy life. Not deal with this foolishness.

And with that, I was up. I grabbed my bag of yarn. It was closing in on 11 o'clock.

"Look. I have to go! Gotta go to work in the morning. And after work, gotta go to writing class."

They let me go on when they saw I had gotten up. I was done with the emotional roundtable.

I went and shook my grandmother's hand. She has been tickled by this gesture as of late, as we never really touch or hug or nothing. She reached her arms up for me to hug her. I hugged her and kissed her on the cheek.

The only other time I remember us sharing this handshake, hug and kiss on the cheek was at the hospital a few days before. Right after I took her hands in mind around midnight at the hospital and prayed with her.

I'm no longer the quiet little girl sitting in the corner. So reserved, and so scared and so emotionally beat down by my mother.

It has taken so many years to unearth the bad seeds my mother has planted in my heart. I refuse to agree with what she thinks of me. I am not a bad person. I am not ugly. I am not stupid. I am not crazy. I am none of those things.

I am me.

I am a blessing to all those who know me. I am a powerful asset. I am good. I am kind. I am honest. I am funny. I impart wisdom. I am a solution to a problem on a DAILY basis. I have a place and purpose in this world.

I am a powerful resource and a very good person to know. Very good.

I am special.

It took many years of looking in the mirror and saying those things to my reflection, and writing those words on my heart, for it to sink in. For the truth of who I truly am to sink in.

And I hold on to those good thoughts about myself like they are gold... like the valuable treasure they are.

"You just be you, Grandma. And you get better. We gonna all be alright," I said. "You did what you could to raise folks right. It's all good. You just get better."

I told them to call me if they needed anything. I am only 10 minutes away, and it is nothing for me to do grocery and medicine runs and other errands. It is too hot for them to be running around in the streets. I can do all that. Just call.

No one has called. The offer still stands. And whenever I go by, I will bring fresh water and a bag of fresh organic vegetables. Yes I will.

I told my sister about all this. "They had me there for a couple hours."

"Well, I was there for 6 hours," she said. "And they did some serious talking."

My goodness. Now THAT had to be one heck of a conversation. And Kentucky told me a little of what they talked about. Woooo-weeee! That conversation would've had me repeatedly beating my forehead on the coffee table. Kentucky is much stronger than I am. Everyday, all day.

Grandma has gotten much off her chest. I guess you get like that when you think you may be staring death straight in the eye.  She is better now. Hopefully getting it all out has done her some good.

I don't know if it did me any good. I don't think much of myself in these cases. Like I said, I think of my sister, and her fragile heart. I think of her hope. And I support her, even though I don't particularly agree with her steadfastness in the midst of ill treatment.

I think of Grandma too. I hope she gets the peace of mind she is looking for. And I hope she forgives herself for the past.  She has done the best she can do. 

And that is all we can ask and hope for.