My grandfather died May 12th. Ever since then my over analytical self emerged. Needing to control as much of my insane existence as possible. It’s not his death that created this craziness. But it was the catalyst. My weight obsession. My chronic anxiety over every financial aspect of my life. Delving into the “what ifs” and second guessing every decision made. What if I’d went to UCLA and didn’t stay in Maryland? What if I ended up with so-and-so.? What if I wouldn’t have lost my job the day after my wedding which spiraled into a series of unbelievably stressful employment opportunities? What if I never bought my home and stayed in the apartment? Are there any real answers? No. Because the past is gone. The present is here. And the future is tomorrow. This isn’t The Butterfly Effect. I can’t redo my past. This is my life.
Without knowing the whole story, you can never understand my garbled ramblings. My story isn’t always pretty or fun, but it’s interesting to say the least. It’s proof that time marches on while you learn a little. Every new piece of knowledge gained is a lesson that will make you a better person. Or at least… save you from making the same mistakes. They say the twenties are for making your mistakes, the thirties are for fun, and the forties are when you really have everything you wanted when you were in your twenties.
Curious? I know. My grandfather’s passing really opened some crazy attic in my brain. When he was alive I felt whole, but didn’t even realize it. He was the patriarch of my family and so much more. To me, he was proof that I was perfect-at least in his eyes. He was the only person I know that no matter the situation would always see me as the perfect little “babydoll” he first fell in love with in 1980. That’s not saying I was not my true self around him. There was plenty of drinking, cursing, and fun. Despite that, I remained perfect. He saw in me what I wanted to portray to the world. And he made me believe that I was “something.” His opinion mattered more to me than my own parents. It’s because with him, he was never disappointed. My parents do adore me, but also can see the flaws. He never did. I was flawless in his eyes. That carried me through my life. It enabled me to withstand job losses, adultourous men, weight loss, weight gain, money problems, broken friendships, sickness, marriage, and even death. His presence was there with every dance show, theatrical production, party, and bittersweet memory Now that he’s gone I don’t know how to move forward without him.