Family

I have been thinking a lot about my childhood lately. It wasn't a very pleasant one. However, growing up under less than ideal circumstances and experiences can create unique coping skills. My way of coping was through my imagination and creativity. When my grandmom wouldn't let me watch t.v. or go outside to play, I'd escape to the basement and teach myself how to use a hammer and try to emulate my grandfather and build things. When I was allowed outside, I'd go into the back yard and pretend my dog was a show dog in the circus or pretend I was the greatest golfer ever with a stick and a ball. I'd teach myself gymnastics. I'd read books about dancing and copy what they were able to do. I'd treat our garden to some pruning and edging, because that's what I'd seen our neighbor do.

There were other times when I spent a lot of time with my other grandmother, too. Going to see her was a different kind of escape. Even though as I grew into an adult she always had something to say about appearances (Victorian as she was raised), I always knew she loved me. We'd sit on her couch, in the same spots for hours on end, my entire life. She'd tell me stories about Scotland that she'd heard from her family. She'd tell me about her Grandfather Palmer and his sporting goods store in Stirling. She'd talk about the "family home" that had a secret tunnel and when they were putting heat into the house, bones were found in that tunnel. She'd talk about the clans I am a part of and how we have a family plot at Holyrood. I learned that I am a descendant of lawyers, actors, musicians, teachers, and some philanderers and not-so-nice people.

I heard stories about my great-grandfather and my great-uncle serving in the Black Watch. I heard about my great-grandfather being one of a scant few that survived a mustard gas attack (think it was mustard gas). We had a family member that worked in South Africa for the British government. He was working on chemical warfare agents. He had an "accident" and died.

As an adult, I've learned that those times were probably an escape for my grandmother. About a year before she died in December, she told me about the abuse that she suffered at the hands of her father, while in a drunken rage and at the hands of my grandfather throughout their marriage. I never pressed for anything, but it did leave me with some questions about my family, and for as well as I knew my grandmom, I didn't know her.

I think that's why the past couple of weeks have been sad for me. Her estate has been settled and there's been paperwork. The last of it came via mail this week. It's like that's all that's left of her and so final. My family is shrinking. All I have left are my mom and dad. My mom's side really has nothing to do with us and my dad's side are all busy hating each other. I've never felt this kind of grief.

The past couple of weeks my cousin and I have been in touch, as we've been experiencing very similar feelings. Today, I received an email from her. She's not in touch with the "hating" side of the family and so we've kind been able to "talk." She expressed that she'd like to write down all of grandmom's stories and plan a trip with her daughter (who looks exactly like my grandmom) to Scotland. She asked if I'd like to go, too. We'd be going for my grandmom. She never got to go back like she wanted. The nicest thing about the email, though, was that my cousin said to always remember "that I have family out West." I've never had someone from my family say that to me. I've always felt like the one who never had any connections, except to my grandmom. I've actually prayed in the past to be a part of a family, as I've never really experienced what family really is.

So, maybe out of all this grief, some good will come.