Written by my new friend, Amy. I’m thankful for her.
As much as I want to “write” this into the story of my life, I don’t. Not yet.
But I can relate.
My grandfather died three days ago. The news crushed me. Questions like, “I’m sorry for your loss.” and, “Do you need anything?” came from a handful of precious friends but, mostly, there was silence. An echo of the loneliness I often feel in response to all things family. At first, I’d wished I had more support. Then came the question that made me want to transition back into the realm of near-invisible: “Were you and your grandfather close?”
Yes…and…no. It’s complicated.
It wasn’t so much the question itself that bothered me; I was thankful someone was thoughtful enough to take interest. It was knowing that my answer would stop the conversation in its tracks that made my chest ache. It would result in awkward silence, and I just didn’t have the emotional energy for that.
My biological family is dysfunctional. Extremely dysfunctional. Generation after generation of verbally abusive motherhood stopped…
View original post 743 more words