Gram

When I was but a diaper-tugging, ground crawler I am told I would scuttle the distance between the living area of my parents to the door of my grandmother's kitchen. The story details change slightly depending on which source chronicles it, but for the sake of impact and cannon we shall stick with the original. I was originally slated for arrival on this world on the anniversary of her birth, but for whatever reasons, I opted to drag things out for ten extra days. The point of these two notes is that Gram and I apparently had a strong bond from the the beginning of my existence. I have memories of being scolded for doing something wrong, as a child, and telling her I loved her out of fear that she might vanish from my life. It wouldn't be until much later that I understood the psychological gearwork behind this.

I needn't go into illicit detail, but ultimately my grandparents were the most prominent and stable influence through my formative years. I grew up playing role model to one parent, basing the mold for this image on the morals they instilled in me. The lack of the other parent had left me with a bit of a hole. My grandmother tried her hardest to fill this void to the best of her abilities. The moral fiber that founded the man that I am as an adult, came from the responsible image that my grandparents diligently maintained for me.

My grandmother lived beyond the death of a child and a life partner, multiple wars, the progress of an industrial age, and the advent of the information age. To think of the things she had witnessed in her life is awe inspiring. She told me once that, when she and my grandpa had moved out into the country, they never expected to see the trees in the yard mature. She also amended her wishes, as I aged and time marched on, to see me through school, and finally to see me on my own in the world. Amusingly, Gram saw both the trees and myself into maturity.

Time marches on. I left home on a flight to places distantly removed. I felt as though I needed to remove myself from my family in order to accept parts of myself. I feared most of all, my grandmother's approval, or disapproval of my sexuality. Her conservative image was the complete opposite to her ultimately liberal acceptance of me as a person. I'm still sad that it took three thousand miles, and some serious mistakes, to discover this. The main lesson I took from this period of my life was that if you don't feel like something is wrong, and you act like as though you have done no wrong, then people's moral image will be swayed. Going out into the world opened my eyes to a great many things. I feel that when I returned home, I may have broadened her views as well.

It was ultimately gram's plea that brought me back from afar. Looking back, I think she knew her story was drawing into it's final chapter. Maybe, she just needed the story to come full circle and have all the main characters return for the finale, to surround herself with her loved ones. Her health started its decline shortly after my return home. It wasn't rapid, but it was noticeable. The span gave me enough time to brace myself to some degree, but how much can one really brace themselves for a loss?

There is a part of me that wishes I had stayed with her the night that she died. Another part of me feels like I, at least, righted a wrong by being there one last time, when no one else would be. It angers me still that, though her wishes were being fulfilled, dad didn't try to communicate that to her. Things just kind-of happened, and she was left to ride it out, for the most part, on her own. I would like to feel that in those last few hours she had some comfort from our last visit, and that she understood even when words failed me so greatly...

Goodbye Gram, I pray your voyage was pleasant, your reunions joyous, and your destination unfathomably beautiful. I love you and will miss you more than these words can justify.


Rubye Ballew Robbins 6/30/1922 - 3/16/2011