Today I was looking at pictures. I sat on the hardwood floor of my empty furniture-less bedroom, and I looked at pictures from my childhood. Many of them were of my great grandparents who are long since passed away. Those were perhaps the saddest pictures to look at. My sisters and I were all hugging my grampy and he looked so happy. I have his eyes, and we were the only ones who could wiggle our ears in the family.
Then I came across some of my Uncle Billy, and saw how happy he used to be. These days I have no idea how he's doing, because that part of the family isn't our family anymore. His sister Mary was sitting on his lap in one of them; they were so happy and hugging and young and fun. Where did they lose their sanity? Their focus and love of life and family just seemed to disappear. I'm not even sure if Mary is still alive. I may never know.
My mother's ex boyfriend and his sons were in some of these pictures. People I used to call "dad" and "brother". Now when I think of this person I had living in my home it makes me sick. But I still keep in touch somewhat with my "brothers". I wonder if people ever take pictures because they know that their life could change at any moment in time, and everyone that is in love or connected in that photo could disappear or walk out or become someone you would never recognize, in an instant. Photos are a snapshot of a moment that may never exist again. Take them while you can, is all I can say for it.
Did you ever have a grandfather? I used to have two; a great one and a first level one. One died (my sweet grampy who will never be away from my heart), and one I will probably never speak to or see again. He may as well have died; I have no idea where he is. But I know that he used to cook on the grill for family parties, and take our family to Red Sox games. We used to go to the beach and go on walks. He went to all my shows. I get sick just thinking about it.
Looking at pictures of my great grandparents and thinking about how the divorce never came up until the past year or so, it finally all makes sense. Who would try to go through a divorce when you've been divorced like twice already, and your parents are ancient in their 90s? Grammy and Grampy wouldnt' have let them live that down, they would've been rip shit. So they pass away, and you deal with the grieving and you think, "maybe my marriage isn't so bad" because you're being comforted. Then the mourning period passes and you realize you're still unhappy. But there's nothing stopping you. I get it; she was waiting for the right timing to leave him.
I thought that as I grew up, the younger people in my family would change, and we would all lead happy lives and be a "normal" family. But as we grew up, many of the "adults" in my life had changed, and they fell apart. They were no example to be followed, and our relationships were lost. I can't imagine letting this happen with my kids or theirs. Where are the adults in my family? Life was perfect before death, sickness, and selfishness started to kick in. Sadly, I sometimes feel like I'm the biggest adult out of most of us. We're supposed to turn out better. It's scary to think about how we're going to do that.
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