Wednesday, November 02, 2005

makin' my peace

My grandfather is going for open heart surgery tomorrow morning. I stopped in tonight at dinner time to spend some time with him. His place was 'off the hook.' or as off the hook as an old folks home can get. I brought 'em a pizza, because there was always pizza when I was a little kid, and that was a bunch of good memories. I talked to my uncles and aunt and my grandparents.

Things went pretty well. I came back after work, and everyone was gone and he was getting my grandmother ready for bed. He bitches a lot, but he does take good care of her. maybe not THE best, but it's certainly HIS best. She was crying a little, because she's worried about him. I gave her a kiss and a hug and told her everything would be OK. I can't say he'll be OK, but somehow, everything'll work out in the end.

He walked me to the door. I told him I loved him and I appreciated everything he'd done for us and that he'd always done his best by us. I hoped the surgery went well, and we'd be praying for him. Then I left. That had been hard to get out and kinda painful.

I felt a little better about things as I was walking to the car. That was something I'd been meaning to tell him for a while. I never got to say that to my grandparents on my dad's side. I hope their last memories of me wern't of me being an asshole stuckup teenager.

It had been hard to get out, too. My family doesn't talk about those 'emotional' things. It was like things like love and grattitude and appreciation were quantifiable, somehow. The actual expression of love is conducted in measurable acts such as "doing" something for someone (cleaning the gutters, baking them a cake...) or spending money on them. What's so tough about words?? The pizza was the "doing" thing and the spending money thing. I was in the clear, technically. But I'd have felt bad for the rest of my life if I wouldn't have said it.

Of course, when I was getting in the car and driving away, i realized, I really hadn't said everything that there was to say. Do you ever really say everything there is to say? It'd take forever for that.

I know I did my best, but I always have that personal sense of inadequacy. My best, for me at least, is never good enough.

I just keep repeating over and over, 'what has been done, has been done. What has not been done has not been done. Let it be." I'm not exactly sure that the compulsive doers and self-loathers were exactly the audience the authors of the office of compline had in mind when they wrote that, but it's my little mantra. I' ve done what I can do, and I ahve to let god do the rest.


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