Karma
My co-worker is from Pakistan, and she believes in karma. What goes around will come around. Be good and good things will happen to you. Be bad, and, well, you know.
I bring this up because I talk a lot about my grandmother's home, or what's left of it, here. Until I was 20, I thought the world of this woman. I would spend every Friday night at her home, the highlight of the evening was a standing date with Bo & Luke Duke. (Of course, I had to get through the Incredible Hulk first, and I'd always bury my eyes in the blanket at the slightest hint of green.) But my parents shielded me from the ugliness of the alcoholism that permeated through our family, so much so that I didn't truly realize the depth of the nastiness it spawns until I began to plan my first wedding.
I have two younger cousins, a year apart. One is blood related, one is the child of a previous marriage. I asked the non-blood related cousin to stand as a bridesmaid because she was the one I saw the most. (The other girl was often with her mother, caught in the turmoil of a particularly nasty divorce, so I didn't get to spend much time with her.) This resulted in me being, quite literally, disowned. Without discussion, without rhyme or reason. My last one-sided discussion with my aunt and grandmother involved them saying "We won't be at your wedding." And that was it. My father was so hurt, he stopped speaking to them. And it stayed this way for eight long years. A family ripped apart by my decision to choose a bridesmaid. It made no sense to me. I struggled to understand what I'd done to be so completely rejected by these women I had idolized my entire childhood. My father's explanation was quite simple.
"They've always been that way."
Fast forward to March, 2005. My beautiful daughter is born, and my entire perspective on life is completely changed. I received a baby gift from my estranged aunt. An olive branch. The closest I will ever recieve to an apology. Since I now understand the value of family, I want to mend the rift that has hurt me for so long. But I am cautious. I am sensitive. I am a cynic. Can people change? I don't think so. But we can approach them with caution, and not let them get into a position where they can completely destroy your ideals again. I don't want to poison my daughter with stories of how mean her grandmother & great-aunt were to me. I want her to know how much I enjoyed my childhood. I want to share my good times with her. I want to shield her from the kind of pain I endured when my family unexplicably abandoned me.
A baby brings a family together. A hurricane REALLY brings your family together.
My grandmother & aunt are fortunate enough to have found a house to rent, ironically, extremely close to my father. He checks on them occasionally. He helped survey their property. They have nothing in terms of belongings. During my last visit, I walked through my aunt's house, the stench of mold and mud overpowering. I had an eerie feeling, because I thought I'd never set foot in that house again. And there, on the mantle, is the only picture salvaged from the 15-foot wall of water with absolutely no damage. It's a picture of my grandmother, my aunt, me, and the blood cousin.
I try to live a good life. I try to be a good person. Now I will definately try harder.
I bring this up because I talk a lot about my grandmother's home, or what's left of it, here. Until I was 20, I thought the world of this woman. I would spend every Friday night at her home, the highlight of the evening was a standing date with Bo & Luke Duke. (Of course, I had to get through the Incredible Hulk first, and I'd always bury my eyes in the blanket at the slightest hint of green.) But my parents shielded me from the ugliness of the alcoholism that permeated through our family, so much so that I didn't truly realize the depth of the nastiness it spawns until I began to plan my first wedding.
I have two younger cousins, a year apart. One is blood related, one is the child of a previous marriage. I asked the non-blood related cousin to stand as a bridesmaid because she was the one I saw the most. (The other girl was often with her mother, caught in the turmoil of a particularly nasty divorce, so I didn't get to spend much time with her.) This resulted in me being, quite literally, disowned. Without discussion, without rhyme or reason. My last one-sided discussion with my aunt and grandmother involved them saying "We won't be at your wedding." And that was it. My father was so hurt, he stopped speaking to them. And it stayed this way for eight long years. A family ripped apart by my decision to choose a bridesmaid. It made no sense to me. I struggled to understand what I'd done to be so completely rejected by these women I had idolized my entire childhood. My father's explanation was quite simple.
"They've always been that way."
Fast forward to March, 2005. My beautiful daughter is born, and my entire perspective on life is completely changed. I received a baby gift from my estranged aunt. An olive branch. The closest I will ever recieve to an apology. Since I now understand the value of family, I want to mend the rift that has hurt me for so long. But I am cautious. I am sensitive. I am a cynic. Can people change? I don't think so. But we can approach them with caution, and not let them get into a position where they can completely destroy your ideals again. I don't want to poison my daughter with stories of how mean her grandmother & great-aunt were to me. I want her to know how much I enjoyed my childhood. I want to share my good times with her. I want to shield her from the kind of pain I endured when my family unexplicably abandoned me.
A baby brings a family together. A hurricane REALLY brings your family together.
My grandmother & aunt are fortunate enough to have found a house to rent, ironically, extremely close to my father. He checks on them occasionally. He helped survey their property. They have nothing in terms of belongings. During my last visit, I walked through my aunt's house, the stench of mold and mud overpowering. I had an eerie feeling, because I thought I'd never set foot in that house again. And there, on the mantle, is the only picture salvaged from the 15-foot wall of water with absolutely no damage. It's a picture of my grandmother, my aunt, me, and the blood cousin.
I try to live a good life. I try to be a good person. Now I will definately try harder.
posted by Kristie at 8:56 AM
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