Sinking

Last night I received a call that my grandfather (dad's dad) was in the hospital. I called back and he answered. "What's wrong?" I asked. Unfortunately, he told me. The old are not always bashful about...private matters. It eased my mind a bit that it wasn't a heart attack, or cancer (again - he's beat it twice), but it pained me to hear him cough, as if he couldn't catch enough breath. His voice quavered. "We're moving," he said. I could hear the pain and tears in his voice, which made me tear up. I can't bear it when someone cries.

His wife (my dad's step-mother) moved down from Nebraska to marry him. Their entire married life has been fraught with tension as she tried to get him to agree to move back to her home. Now that he's sick and old, she will. She'll take him from the only place he's ever lived, with memories of his children and family, and move him to someplace where he can't even take part in ministry or church because of his age.

This is what happened to my great-grandmother, and she ended up dying of a broken heart.

I love my step-grandma, but I can't understand why she would choose to move now. Easier while he's alive? Harder to go back once he's dead? She asked if I wanted some of the furniture.

I...we don't have room. But if they're in the family, I don't want him to see it all go into a sale and dissipate like the rest of his life. It's too unbearable.

And then I called my brother, because he needed to know Grandpa was in the hospital.

My brother has gone through a lot recently and it's extremely difficult to remain where he is, living with a controlling family (not ours), working all day, and remaining in the same place where he was hurt so badly as a child. It's agony. But he has to work to afford school. Two more weeks and he can leave.

But he broke down at work because at eighteen years old, you can't handle working non-stop, being in a restricted life while you know the person who hurt you is only a short car ride away.

I don't think you can handle that at any age, really.

Family.

What can you do when you're all falling apart? I don't want to share what I've learned about myself, because that's another emotional rollercoaster.

My parents have lost a child. They've learned of one of their children being hurt. And one of their children is broken. She didn't turn out like they wanted.

Which is probably why I had the following dream last night (I ate a grilled chicken salad):

Stu and I were living in a house that was taller than it was wide. We were filming Titanic in the first floor and needed to flood the house, so I took the antique furniture and was getting desperate to move it so my mom, dad and Ethan showed up to help me. We moved some stuff and then carted the rest up the stairs, but I was worried that with all the water on the ground floor, the house would cave in.

Then it became a flood (inside and out) and we had to leave all of our stuff behind. And I kept wondering what was so important to me, and why. Why did it matter? Shouldn't people matter more? And they were all safe.

This is my life.

And I thought last year was difficult.