Unravel Cancer: Experiences with family battling cancer: Bones of the Past

09 August 2009

11:46 Bones of the Past

It's so easy to think that there's meat on bones from the past. But, it's an illusion - our minds place this image there. Actually, they're just bones, with flesh, sinew, or bits left. But, how we as humans cling to them is amazing.

I talked to my grandfather today. He's 98 years old. He was in the mood to talk a little bit, after some prodding. He kept saying that his children & grandchildren don't want to listen to him. That we have to live our lives, and make our own mistakes to understand life. It was sad for me to hear this, because it has been true. I know that my mom often painted her parents as whackjobs, and it was never reinforced that I should listen to them and learn from their experiences. Only now as I'm older do I value their wisdom. With my grandmothers, I tried as much as I could to get them to talk about their past, their experiences, their failures & their triumphs. I heard snippets here & there, but never the complete picture. Now they are both gone, and I often pray to them asking for help on how to deal with all the things going on in my life today.

Maybe they & my grandfather don't want to remember how hard it was. Maybe they are grateful to see their children & grandchildren have an easier time of things. Grandpa was saying today that because we have things so easy, we don't want to hear what he has to offer. This is probably true. We didn't scratch out a company from the dirt of Blue Island like he did. We didn't have to face the same ethnic discrimination that he did (in Chicago at least, from the beginning of the 20th century until only recently, even whites of different ethnic backgrounds had rivalries and grievances against one another. Irish against German, German against Polish, Italian against everybody...).

I told Grandpa that I was willing to listen & to learn, but he didn't want to tell me anything. He didn't believe me that I cared to hear him. It deeply saddened me that he doesn't feel validated. What is worse though, is that he wasn't able to accept the validation I was trying to offer him. I asked him to tell me about all the amazing things he & Grandma had accomplished. Not every couple receives honorary medals from the Pope for refugee work behind the Iron Curtain of Lithuania. But, he wouldn't open up.

And, he's not cheery in the least. At least with my dad's mom, she always said on the phone, "It's so good to hear your voice". I'll cherish her for that phrase, always. And my mom's mom always called me "poupy". It was like her version of "poopsie". It must be terribly lonely, though, to be the "last man standing" among all one's friends and relatives. One of the first things Grandpa said today was, "Why would I want to talk to you about something that you can't possibly understand? You can't know what it's like to be an old guy like me, so it's a waste of breath." In one respect, he's right. In another, it's still ok to pass on what you do know about life to whomever will listen, even if they don't understand in the way you want them to.

Although Grandpa was painting a glorified picture of Grandma today (he said she was one of the most positive people in the world - but mostly she talked to me about her ailments. But, she was often cheerful & supportive of us youth; maybe that's what he meant), it reminded me of my own parents, and my siblings. Both my parents had a lot to forgive their parents. They were beaten, sexually abused, told to work at very young ages, and expected to show a good face of propriety to the outside world. Bad things weren't talked about, suffering was swept under the rug, and each grandparent showered affection on their "favorite" child, leaving the others wallowing in benign neglect.

Neither of my grandmothers were angels, that's for sure. Observing my parents, aunts & uncles now, though, is a sad reminder of how people cling to the bones of the past, instead of living life for today. The mental illness, contentious divorces, neglect of cousins, and vulturic circling of the family inheritance instead of earning a decent living burns my gut on a good day.

As the East Bay Summer sun beats down on me on the back porch, heating up my laptop so it sounds like an airplane engine ready to explode from a stuck bird in its fans, I try to let go of these Bones. I try to celebrate the retreat my yoga teacher is on, knowing it helps all of us women to experience her inner journey of self care. I try to give thanks for all that I do have, my friends, my job, the glorious sunshine caking me in sweat. With each breath I try to come back to the aliveness of my being, the gift of my pain - for if I didn't feel anything, than it would be a sign my heart had shut, and locked itself into stone. I'm reminded the weather is good enough to make sun tea, and vow to purchase a jar at the hardware store, if I can get out there today. I thank myself for taking today slowly, snacking & nibbling, staying in my PJs, updating my iPhone, and loafing in general. For the first time since I moved, hearing the mellow sounds of lazy summer afternoon becomes music to my ears. The lack of screeching buses, howling crackheads, honking yuppies in their BMW convertibles because there is no parking, hits me like a hazy cloud of calm, sprayed from a cosmic crop duster.

And I take a breath.

Labels: Chicago, entrepreneurship, family abuse, grandparents, Lithuania, past, Poland, Pope

Breathe.

I'm a 30-something professional woman who's mother & brother were both diagnosed with Grade 3 Astrocytoma tumors within about a week of each other. My mother's tumor is in her brain, and my brother's tumor is in his spinal cord, causing him to lose feeling in his arms & legs. These writings are about my experiences dealing with them, coping, loving them, loving myself, and living my life knowing that they are both dying. I hope you find inspiration and courage from my writings to help you get through whatever is going on in your life.