I felt anger towards my grandmother as she lay dying in the nursing home waiting for the inevitable. Mentally, I was unable to handle it. I’d drive to the place in which I grew up and my mind began to splinter.
Soon I see everything in tunnel vision. All I see is the small car in front of me. I feel like I can’t drive. Hands white-knuckle the steering wheel, the same fear and paranoia of the past takes over.
Grandma died some months past and it triggered many things in my body and mind. When I was young I could only see my grandparents as my salvation. I’ve come to understand grandma’s abusive behavior toward my aunt and mother. As a kid I was trained on my own survival. Plus it was my normal. As and adult I understand there was abuse, but I’m still processing it. I’m not at the point of forgiveness. I’ve let myself grieve her death. This is my farewell to a woman who loved me, yet harmed others. It may take years to put these two images together, into one coherent piece. Yet the little girl in me needs to say goodbye, you were loved grandma. I will never forget the fresh apple pie you baked. Each apple came from a tree that is now close to death. Last season my uncle said very few apples grew. This season one side of the tree hangs low with juicy red apples. I was inspired by the poetry I’ve found on several of your blogs
Sweet sticky apples
One leaning tree
Hollow broken trunk
Still apples grow
Grandma’s ghost lingers.
The little girl swings.