I dread the day, but I know it is coming. The day when she asks why she doesn’t know her grandpa, or if mommy has a daddy, or why grandpa doesn’t talk to mommy but he does talk to her uncle, or why grandpa doesn’t want to know her or love her. It is coming.
It would be so much easier to tell her he was dead. I wish I could say that were true. If it weren’t for the fact that he is still very much a part of my brother’s life, and the likelihood of her knowing that he does exist is high, I might have no qualms lying to her and telling her that grandpa is dead and gone. Because he is dead to me.
It will be six years in January since we spoke.
The angry phone call that started with me announcing our engagement and ended with him telling me “good luck with the rest of your life” was the last time I could feel the hate in his voice vibrating through my bones. After telling me he could never be happy for me and reminding me what a huge failure I was for marrying someone who doesn’t hunt or watch NASCAR or eat meat and has tattoos, the phone clicked and I knew that would be the last time I spoke to him.
At four months pregnant, I mulled over the idea of informing him about his future grandchild. I decided to do the responsible thing and write him a letter and tell him he is welcome to know future baby if he so chooses. Why I offered such a gracious peace offering to him is beyond me now. A month passed with no response and I assumed he just didn’t give a shit, which, he obviously did not.
When I received his three-page hate-letter, my heart stopped in my chest. All air escaped my lungs. The words I was reading were piercing, deliberate, familiar –filled with hate and such inconvenience– the way I felt my entire childhood under his rule. The words and filth and lies he wrote made me grateful to no longer know him. It made me realize that even though the choices I had made were difficult to make, and the process of breaking generational cycles felt like trying to run a marathon underwater, no one is destined for a life reflective of the one from which they came.
It really solidified the choices in life that I had made up to that point and showed me that I truly have been, and always will be, a better person than he could ever dream of becoming.
I know the day is coming, the day she asks who her grandpa is. If he isn’t dead by then, my only wish is to handle that conversation with truth, grace and compassion like a champ, in a way he never could.
Anna aka Gots2noJohstono says:
November 8, 2010 at 9:19 am
Wow, this is powerful. I know how you feel and don’t have anything to do with my dead-beat that left when I was two. I will eventually go through the same thing you are now. Know there are people out there that have the same experience. Sending love and uber hugs to you. You are strong and awesome.
BigP’s Heather says:
November 8, 2010 at 10:05 am
I know you will because you are already thinking about that conversation. Because you care about your child in a way he never could. The right words will come.
Casey says:
November 8, 2010 at 10:28 am
Wow, mama. I’m sorry you had to live with someone like this. I had to remove my children’s grandfather form their lives 2 1/2 yrs ago, over allegations that he had beaten one of them. I feel extreme guilt over my mother not knowing her grandchildren better because of her abusive husband (she’s not exactly free from his abuses either) but I am satisfied in knowing that my children are safe.
I am confident you will find the right words for her.
You are strong and you know what? She will be, too.
Momma Chaos says:
November 9, 2010 at 12:19 pm
First of all – {{{Hugs}}}. It still completely mystifies me that parents can treat their children with less than love.
When the time comes that your little one asks, I know you’ll handle it well. Death would be easier than explaining that your own parent wants nothing to do with you but the ironic thing is that your child will believe what you tell them. They take it as fact and nod their heads like everyone’s lives are like that. In our family, it’s my husband’s mother. In our 16yrs together, I have never once met or spoken to her. She didn’t come to our wedding and has never seen any of our kids. My kids know they have 1 grandmother (my mom)and are ok with it.
Good luck!
Rusti says:
November 10, 2010 at 10:18 am
I’ve never had any experiences to even give me a clue as to how hard that has been, and is now, but I have great admiration for you, and know that you are doing an AMAZING job with your daughter… you might not know what you’re going to say ahead of time, but when the time comes you will say the exact right thing, because it will come from your heart. *HUGS*