Change of Spots

Before I get into the meat of this post, I have to give a healthy amount of background. When I was younger I’d go visit my paternal dadsParents quite often. The reason being was Zi’s specialist was in Charleston. So every time she had an appointment, it entailed a visit to Grandma’s [for the sake of typing known henceforth as dadsMa and dadsPa]. I can recall loving those times. My dadsMa’s yard was just an awesome playground. She had a modest pond, a big ol swing and her shrubbery plus my imagination had me on many a lone quests in the ‘wilds’. I even remember getting scolded for picking one of the flowers off her bushes by my dadsPa. I remember that because I thought it was unduly harsh and ‘he’s not my daddy!’

Those times I spent the day with my dadsPa. I’d play outside, just me and my imagination. We’d feed tree rats by putting out pecans and I’d watch them sneak up, peer around and snatch the goods. Or the copious birds that would flock to the feeders that were always around. He’d take me to places around Charleston-parks, reserves, etc. When I was very young, we’d have a present waiting for us. Sometimes it was our birthday presents, sometimes our Christmas. In fact, I can say I was influenced by one year’s Christmas present to always wrap mine awesomely because I remember the big eyed ‘wow..that’s..for me?’ feeling at a beautifully wrapped present. I liked going to dadsMa’s because I actually got some attention and not my sister. You have to go back to your days of sibling rivalry in whatever form it manifested. I never resented it, but once in a while, you wanted the same attention. My sister got the better presents in my opinion [of a 4-8 years old’s accumulated wisdom]. At dadsMa’s..I got the better presents. I didn’t see this for what it was until later, but at 6 or 7, I simply got the better present for a change. The ironic thing about that is I was too polite to not express my genuine dislike for something so as not to be perceived as ungrateful for a gift. In effect, people were mislead to think LilChelle likes dominoes when I would have been happy with Make-Up Barbie.

So, take one instance. We came down and our Christmas presents were there waiting for us. We tear into them. I get this Style Magic Barbie, [small aside, when looking to see if I could find a pic..talk about wow..] and an outfit for it. I remember it was a purple dress that changed [and was hell to change at that] but her hair you could style. Suzie…got a plate. Not just any plate, but one with a carousel horse painted on it, since she liked carousels. Let me ask you.. if you’re buying for a 6 [I think she was six at the time] year old little girl that liked carousel horsies..wouldn’t you buy a small carousel that would turn with music, or find a a toy that could be -played- with? Just me?

I remember this instance because she wanted to play with my Barbie and like a true child of the Maternal gene stock, I wouldn’t let her..it was MY Barbie, throwing back at her her words of possession when she wouldn’t let me play with something that was HERS. Angels, no? Not to mention the ‘PWNED!!1!’ feeling that came over me. Triumph, victory, and with matching purple heels.

Now let’s fast forward a couple years. The visits to dadsMa’s had waned. Relations between my family and my dadsMa strained a bit when she’d ask about us coming to visit and my dad told her the highway went north and south, she was welcome to visit when she wanted. I think they visited once. Needless to say my dad’s ‘rebellion’ [or his not falling for a poorly administered guilt trip] ruffled her feathers. We still visited when Suzie had an appointment, but it seemed we weren’t doing that much like we used to. Then my dad died. By this point, relations between my mom and dadsMa..well let’s just say that my mom had made it clear early into her marriage with my dad that dear old grams wasn’t moving into her house when she got on in years. And I quote, ‘I didnae like the woman.’ This, of course, didn’t endear my mom to my dadsMa any more than her being a ‘foreigner’ did. Fortunately my mom never cared about having the MIL’s approval. She ‘didnae like the woman.’

When my dad died, I laid eyes on family from his side I had never met. I’d seen some via pictures, but that was it. Suzie and I had always been mature for our ages and keen observers. We knew when to keep quiet about it and my parents respected our intelligence enough to give us credit for being smarter than most were given credit for. [Which is probably why our schemes were always thwarted, even when we thought we got one over on them. Or that great minds think alike. ] The whole wake, visitation, funeral, ‘semi shin dig’ after was where ties with dadsMa were all but severed. She started trouble via drama. She created a fuss when my mom followed my dad’s last wishes to the letter [even though mom did consider her wants], and another when we were at the funeral home buying services. This I didn’t much notice. I was too busy trying to avoid people I didn’t know and well, just avoiding people. I wanted to be left alone if I couldn’t be alone with my mom.

I remember a wave of dislike I didn’t know I was capable of feeling coming over me when I was at my father’s wake. My mom, knowing us, demanded that before the wake began, it was her and us only, so we could have time with dad. Or his casket. [also didn’t go with well dadsMa]. I remember staring up at the two Marines at either side, unmoving like statues and the picture on top of the casket and just feeling numb apart from wondering was I supposed to say or do something. Then the wake started. My dadsMa was accompanied by either side by two people, I don’t even remember who they were. All I remember was the sudden cry out and the shoulder heaving sobbing that suddenly burst from her. At 12 years old, I spotted the fakery without a bat of an eyelash and I had never felt a surge of dislike in my life like I felt watching her antics. I heard a few days later of the trouble she tried making, simply because she wanted attention. Which in my 12 year old logical mind was disgusting, it was her <em>son’s</em> funeral. Needless to say not long after she shot herself in the proverbial foot with a nasty letter that said yes she always favors the first born and in the case of my sister and I, since Zi was going to die from her disease anyway..why put forth the effort? [[paraphrased, she went on about some other off the wall stuff like stating a belief that she didn’t believe we were her son’s children] I know about that letter because I read it myself, after my sister flung it at me. ‘I knew dadsMa always liked you better than me!’ Might not say much, except my sister was in tears. And the only thing that made her cry was the ending of My Girl.

After that day, ties with dadsMa were severed. And our lives went on. As I grew up, went through college, I did think about my dadsPa and I did miss him. We had been close and over the years, family grew to be that much more important. I think it was not long after I graduated from college that I received some Christmas Cards and letters. It seemed that dadsMa had turned over a new leaf. I wasn’t too skeptical because not only a few years prior a wayward from my mom’s family finally understood what he was missing out on. I was hopeful that she did want to make amends. We talked [or mom talked] on the phone because while I hoped, I wasn’t completely won over with the new leaf. My heart did sink that my dadsPa wasn’t doing well. So in the 4ish years here in Charleston, there’s been letters from myself and my dadsMa. I think it was November that I checked voicemail and there was a message from my dadsMa. She wanted to know if I wanted her salt and pepper collection. I relayed the message to my mom, whose expression asked essentially, WTF? ‘She wants money’ I simply said. And that was the end of it, with a reminder to myself that I needed to write another letter. Nearer to Christmas, we get a call from my Aunt L. [whose pretty much the only one from dad’s side that has kept in touch]. It was a warning call. The past four years of letters and wanting to know how I’ve been have been an elaborate set up. That, I didn’t see, but I don’t know the woman beyond what I saw, and that’s wasn’t much. However I did call it on the wanting money. Apparently my two aunts that live near them aren’t taking care of her like she thinks they should. And she’s broke. So she set her sights on moving back down to Charleston, thinking that I could be manipulated into looking out for her. If I wasn’t so..something in regards to ‘she never learns’ I’d be laughing. Simply because of the obviousness of how much she doesn’t know about me. My mom was livid. [I am her baby after all and well, there’s history with her hurting my sister as I described above]. In fact my mom insulted me by thinking I could be swayed into helping and letting me know where she stood on the matter. I told her I resent that in order to stay in touch with dadsPa, I have to do it through her. Assuming she bothers to read my letters.. which clearly lack an invite to stay with me. I have friends that are much more family to me than she is and they’d get dibs if they needed a place to crash for a while.

Not long after that, I get a small package from dadsMa. I open it and it’s a letter and pictures. Everything in the letter vindicates that she was trying to tug on heartstrings and con me into helping, based on the fact that her son was my dad. She even plants the lines of ‘I know I didn’t help you out during school, but maybe this will help some day’ This being the collection of salt and pepper shakers she wants me to have because she can’t stand the thought of a stranger having them. Not only that, but she pulls a tactic reminiscent of His Assholeship in forging memories. Everything she was reminding me was time I spent with dadsPa, not her or didn’t happen at all. I actually laughed when I read that. Mom was ‘waiting in the wings’ to see if I was going to announce that I’d help dadsMa move. To which I was insulted again. I’m not that easy. While I didn’t see the buttering up, I did see the open hand extended. I picked that skill up early on in life when my naivete was being exploited in school. I also remember no help from her, not only for school, but after dad, and with Zi’s atrocious medical costs. I also remember that day Suzie flung that letter in my face and how I couldn’t wrap my head around someone that said Zi wasn’t worth the effort to love. The pictures sealed the deal as they were mostly of her, her garden and her collection- her, her her. There was one or two of my dadsPa and he’s looked better. That saddened me. I also found out that he’s a lot healthier than she was leading me to believe. He doesn’t have Alzheimer’s, he had a stroke. This, I admit, angered me.

What gets me though, is she picked out keywords in my initial letter to them. I hold a degree in electrical engineering, bought my own house not too long back and things are well for me. Much like people assumed I was Miss Moneybags just based on where I lived and where I was buying a house instead of taking into account that maybe I was smart early on with my money. I know I’ll never get away from the judgment by cover, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.