Enter the Matriarch, she looks around the empty room and realises that this is it, this is the place she was meant to be.
************************************
I am now The Matriarch, we have gone from five generations of women to three, and I am too young for this job. I should be supporting my mother as she grieves the loss of her mother. Not sitting her trying to channel my anger into coherent words, the easier to drop my emotions into your lap internet. Taking my small comfort from you, my readers who have become my friends. Comfort gained from sharing my hurts here when it is just you and I dear internet. Sharing so that I can get on with my life without the anger seeping into nooks and poisoning my joy.
My grandmother was ninety when she died in May this year, I was away at a conference in Gulgong and we found out via a status update on facebook that Nan had died.
How rude.
How rude to find out that your grandmother had died via social media.
How rude to find out that my mother had been written out of her mother’s will.
So rude, so incredibly hurtful, but not unexpected.
I follow the Scarlett O’Hara rule very closely. If I can not change anything today I will not think about it today. This rule usually works very well for me until it doesn’t and I find myself in the supermarket in tears, impulse buying azaleas because they were my mum’s favourite colours.
I mean really internet, really? Azaleas from the supermarket?
I am now the matriarch of my small family and I do not owe anyone anything any more.
I am a writer of sorts and I will write.
I write because it makes me feel better.
I do not write for the attention or to make other peoples lives difficult I write because you, my dearest internet make my life easier with your comfort.
Though I do like this Anne Lamott quote very much,
“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”
One of you, one of my dear internets, rang me yesterday and we talked on the telephone.
You asked me why people were so cruel and unkind, when you tried so very hard to be kind in everything you did.
My answer was that the price we pay for living an honest life is often very high, but ultimately it is worth it.
I look at my grown up children and I know that the choices that we made when the children were small were worth all the hardship at the time.
I told you to write your blog posts for me. to write just for me because I am interested in your life and your philosophy often helps me.
And that my dearest internets is also what you do for me, your comments help me, your emails make me smile through my tears and so I write for those of you who read my words in the spirit I intend them.
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover’d country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
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oh Kim :\ hugs
I too am the matriarch, for completely different reasons, mostly to do with other people allowing bitterness to seep into their very being. Keep writing, keep talking, keep telling your story. Don’t let the anger turn to bitterness
much love and light xx
Sending squeezy love.
Lots.
And hugs .
Azaleas are fine , even from the supermarket.
Enjoy them .
And I see you in her eyes .
The same *stary I see into your soul * eyes .
Love you xx
No words are adequate. Hugs and heartfelt caring.
I am a matriarch too (wonder if there’s a book in this for some of us?). Funny old fashioned and powerful mantle eh?
It makes me try harder in invisible ways. Being included in what you share is a privilege Kim, you do it so well and with wonderful humanity and dry, wry humour. Don’t stop.
Your friend Elaine is very perceptive Kim…keep writing.
When it happened to me I felt ,differently, that I didn’t want to be an orphan!!
*Snap*, I’m a matriarch too now, and we’re down to three generations. We weren’t as close as your family though, I don’t miss my mum and never knew my grandmother except as a photo.
I’m sad that you are still hurting so much, I can only offer virtual hugs, I agree it is rude to hear of your grandmother’s dying by facebook. A phone call isn’t that hard to make, surely?
I like that quote by Anne Lamott.
My mother died when I was 36 and she was not quite 70, my father a year later. Her parents both died when I was a little child. I do not foresee me living to a ripe old age either, my goal is to see my children, who are not quite 13 and 16 grown up and both in their 20s. Anything after that will be a bonus.
I am not always kind. Not everyone deserves it. I am not actively unkind either, I just don’t offer kindness anymore as a default position, I wait and see. I am usually honest though. Most people would prefer me not to be 🙂
I love your stories. And I absolutely love that quote. I have saved it to drafts in my emails so I never forget it!
And I am so very sorry for your loss.
x
Your strong disappointment in your grandmother’s attitude
and those who had her ear (is that the expression I mean?) really comes through in this piece. Surely you could have learnt about her passing before it was posted on the net … crikey!
I love the strength in your writing Kim. Keep it coming.