Thursday, February 26, 2009
My grandmother was a 'something else'--I finally understand why my mother never had a girl bestfriend. It's because my Big was always with men. Always. And when I look back at old pictures I see better that Big was never with a female, never with another lady at her side---I see the reasoning, but I wonder if that was, at times, lonely. And then I think I'm sure not...we had a family mostly of women---but she was always running away from her mother and her sister. It wasn't what they did to her with their eyes, but what they despised about her with their pasts.
Even though smoking is what claimed her young 61 year old life, I love that she stood...fast...on her desires and likes [cough cough laugh laugh cough "these damn cancer sticks gone kill meh"]. And they did. Like my father (but the two are highly not alike), she always had a plastic 'glass' of beer in hand (he usually had liquor--the mellow drinker he was). She cussed, not as much as my great Auntie, her sister, but damn close. When she cussed, it was usually at the walls, late at night, sitting on the side of the bed in a run-down night gown, her dry cracked feet resting on the bed rail. Oh, but I've told that before, in a chapter.
The memories we cannot shake...and why would we ever want to?