my grandmother's family

"I hated our grandmother," my cousin, Jill, told me today. "I remember one day when I was about three and she and I were sitting on our back stoop, I told her that she should just leave because I knew she didn't like me."

"You're right," my grandmother apparently said in response. "I don't like you but I like your brother."

Without question, I could hear my grandmother say this without the slightest bit of guilt. Though a reminder of her easy cruelty, I had to laugh. "You really hated her?"

"I had two grandmothers--the good one and the bad one. She was the bad one."

I only had one grandmother. For me, she was often the bad grandmother, but I didn't hate her. I couldn't. For years she was all that I had. But I didn't like her that much either.

It has been many years since I saw my cousin. The last time I remember speaking with her was to ask for her help in locating all of my belongings that her mom had taken when she put my grandmother into a nursing home and emptied the house. All of this had occurred within a two week span just before my graduation from college. I'd marked on the calendar that my grandmother hung on the pantry door that I would not be home in the weeks prior to the ceremony but that I'd pick her up the day before to bring her to Boston. When I arrived, the house was empty of my possessions and my grandmother. I immediately raced around the corner to my aunt's house. Was it possible that my grandmother could have died without anyone notifying me? My grandmother often didn't answer the phone so I had thought nothing of the fact that I hadn't reached her over the past weeks, but I'd always believed I would know the very moment my grandmother died, that I would feel it physically.

Within minutes I arrived at my aunt's and learned that she had placed my grandmother in a nursing home. My aunt knew I wouldn't be home to protest, though I couldn't have stopped her anyway since she was the one who garnered conservatorship of my grandmother, not I. She was the daughter, she reminded me of the court's decision, not me. "And if you think you're going to bring your grandmother to Boston for your graduation, you can forget it. If you take her out of town, I will have you arrested for kidnapping."

"Where is all of my stuff?" I asked before I left with the address of my grandmother's new home.

"Someone must have walked in and taken it."

My grandmother was in no shape to attend the ceremony, drugged beyond recognition to get her to settle into her surroundings so Aaron and I returned to Boston for the ceremony then headed straight back to Northampton. We took her out for the afternoon and I donned my cap and gown so that she and I might have a photo together. I had hoped to show my grandmother photos from the event but when we brought them to the print shop, we learned that Aaron's camera must have been loaded improperly and there wasn't a single photo.

Even more bereft than when I left, I begged Jill and her brother to help me recover my personal items: the few photos that my grandmother had kept beyond what I brought with me to college, my letters and diaries, the dollhouse my grandfather had given me when I was a child--all of those treasures that had little significance to anyone but myself. Neither she nor her brother claimed knowledge and neither wanted to get involved. We never spoke again. When she did write me a letter years later asking for a chance to resume our relationship, I didn't welcome her back. I wasn't sure how comfortable I was with what had happened between us, especially when I learned that she and her brother were in possession of the house my grandmother had willed to me.

My aunt had successfully dismantled my life within just a few day's time. Transferring my grandmother's property out of her name so that I couldn't inherit it. Confiscating any item from the house that might hold emotional value for me. Relocating my grandmother to a place which I would never consider suitable for her to live. My aunt's rage toward my grandmother far surpassed my own and she seemed determine to let it reign.

But how does this translate to my cousin's place in my life? I hadn't given this much thought until we began to write two days ago after making contact through Facebook. Her letters seemed sincere in wanting a new start with me. Though I no longer dwell on the pain of those days, I wasn't sure that this was the time to resume a relationship with what is left of my grandmother's family.

When she suggested we get together at some point in time, conflicting emotions arose. Was I prepared to delve into our shared history? Was I willing to be hurt by her? As much as I might claim to have no expectations, how could I not? What I can claim is that I never imagined she would call me this morning and confirm that today would be a good day for a visit. I hadn't even had time to digest the correspondence nevermind be ready to see one another face to face. But here she was on the phone asking if it would work out or not. What could I say? I had to make a decision. Give her a fair shot or push her off forever. I determined that this was the year I was taking risks. Then I started to scramble. I had just one hour before Janet and I joined my friend and neighbor Polly for lunch. Jill would arrive immediately after.

"Perhaps it's a sign," Polly offered when I filled her in on the turn of events. "Maybe this is the time when you need family around. Especially with Janet leaving this week."

"I'm not sure what kind of sign it is but I'm not going to have much time to mull it over. She's going to be here within the hour and then we'll see."

By the time Janet and I walked home, Jill was in the drive waiting for us, and our visit began.

At first I didn't recognize her, not in any intimate familiar way, but over the course of the afternoon, I recalled her expressions and the nuances in her speech. We spoke for hours and hours, retracing our lives from childhood until now.

I don't know what this connection will mean to me. Perhaps Polly is right. Finding Jill is a sign of something, I'm just not sure of what. Maybe it means I am meant to begin chronicling my history more thoroughly and to seek more than I had originally imagined.

My past feels certainly closer to me than it has for some time. The memories are brewing once again. But this week is a hard one for me to be so upended. With Janet leaving in just a few days, I already feel more fragile than I care to admit. And I am finding it more difficult than I'd imagined to write about this day with any detail or conviction. I only know that I need to give it a place in this blog as I have a feeling that Jill's visit today is just the beginning of something more. I will have to wait and see what that is.