Category Archives: Parents

Old People

Old People

I miss all my old people.  Funny thing is that I didn’t miss most of them much after they died.  They were well-old enough to die naturally.  I doubt they were in much more pain at death than they were over the last few months of life.  All those aches and pains probably got some relief when the power shut off to their brains. Anniversaries of all my old great aunts and uncles are scattered throughout the year.  Sometimes I remember, sometimes it’s just another day.  Of course at the time they departed there were tears and feelings of empty sadness, but life kept me moving forward.

Now, years later, it is a different kind of sadness.  My emotions have forgotten that they are dead.  Gramma and Grampa are just at their house a few towns over.  Or so it feels.  The sadness comes when I feel the need to pick up the phone and call them as if they are in their 60s, alive and well.  I don’t remember them so much as the frail, elderly people who I saw pass away.  I remember them active and relatively young enough to be a source of information and entertainment (stories of days gone by).

I miss the little things.  How they acted so interested in me.  How they looked down on me with a smile that people only give children in their family.  I can remember my great aunt’s face, all old and wrinkled, when she smiled as if she thought I was so cool.  She was born in 1909.  To her a game boy was beyond even a Jules Vern novel.

It’s weird for me to miss things about the past.  I don’t miss many things that people normally do.  Like my childhood friends.  We were going to be friends forever and now I loath the thought of ever having to awkwardly run into any of them around town.  I never had a reason to dislike all my old people.  They were situations to manage of course, but that was a given need for a elderly family member.  Unlike my old friends, nothing else in life has fully filled the void left by that by-gone generation.

There’s nothing to do with these feelings about them.  I can reminisce with those who knew them too.  Or look through old family photos.  but it all just leads to the same thing, welling up in tears of sadness that gets stronger with the thought that my parent’s generation is next.

Where my mind came from

Where my mind came from

I got my mind from my dad’s side of the family.  I know this because the only relatives who completely (and I mean without a doubt) understand me at my wildest edges of the English language are from that side of the family, specifically my paternal grandmother’s side, they also completely understand my contempt for 95% of people I meet (yes, most of you are socially annoying and you cover it up by getting even more in people’s private business, the thought that no one needs you is terrifying, the thought that no one needs us is liberating… we are a different breed and we love ourselves for it).  That’s not to say that I didn’t get any aspects from the other three pieces.  I definitely gain extraordinary abilities from he other sides. My magnetism for reading and overly advance practicality came from my maternal grandmother’s side.  My hardworking ethic and royal blood (over sense of self worth once reduced to peasant status) from my maternal grandfather’s side.  I just realized that I have never met a sole from my paternal grandfather’s side of the family (aside from my grandfather himself, who passed when I was 2)… I asked my dad and apparently they were all a happy family until he moved to California with his parents from Charleston, West Virginia to California in 1957.  So I really am not sure what traits my mind has gathered from that side of the family.  But judging from stories… my wandering eye definitely originated there…. but thanks to my maternal grandmother though, I’ve never felt the urge to cheat.