Generations

I come from a long line of miserable marriages.

My grandfather on my Dad's side divorced well before I was born. I remember as a young child in his shop, my Grandpa Ellis offering me chewing tobacco, or alcohol, or whatever he was tucking into at the moment just for a chuckle. He'd remarried a woman that we all just called Jenny.

I don't know the circumstances of their divorce. I don't know if he was any happier with Jenny. I do know that one of my Aunts has a different mother than my Dad. I don't know that this was before or after the divorce, but I wouldn't be too surprised to find that some infidelity was involved.

We always called Dad's mom Grandma Howard. I barely know her full name because that title was so engrained. She remarried a few times and was widowed every time as far as I know. The only one I really knew in my lifetime was Clay. He was a good man. I respected him very much. He spoke funny, and was difficult to look at sometimes because he was missing his lower jaw. I don't know the circumstances for that, but he was a wonderful man with a fantastic sense of humor. As you would expect, I took him for granted until he was gone. My grandma Howard was pretty great too. Despite having a pretty hard life, she loved us all very much.

My Grandma on my Mother's side wasn't my favorite. My Grandpa Jackson was a simple man, but he was good. He loved nature and growing things. He was always quite proud of his farm, even though it was a bit of a mess. I don't blame him too much for it being a mess - probably because I can relate to him a bit that way. I would much rather walk the earth admiring it's beauty than to stick myself between four walls and wither. At the same time feeling bound by honour and duty and a desperate need to be loved and appreciated that ties us to our circumstances.

Grandpa and Grandma Jackson were hoarders, and they lived their lives in absolute filth. Grandma Jackson was bitter and lazy, and I really wasn't sad to see her pass. I know that's a horrible thing, but she felt a bit to me like a weed. A human weed that found it's only purpose in life to steal any crumbs of joy from those around her. She died from a stroke in her sleep.

If one person missed her, it was Grandpa Jackson. My parents often called him Paul. Particularly after Grandma Jackson died. His mind went fast after that. He had Alzheimers disease. Nobody really knew what to do with him after that. He ended up going in a home and spent the rest of his life trying to break out until he basically became a vegetable. He died in a home.

Grandma Howard died in a home too. I wasn't there. I wish I could have been for her. I loved Grandma Howard very much. Out of all my grandparents, she was the one that was always a part of my life. She outlived everyone else. And she loved us all so much. I think I must've learned alot about life from her. I wish that Rachael would have met her that first month she came to visit me. I think they would've gotten along well. I think we would understand each other better, had we known each other's grandparents.

It's time to get out from these four walls for a bit, and look for the sun.
Love you all.
-len