Letting Go

Letting Go

View of Hell’s Mouth from my Grandmother’s house in North Wales

Today is a beautiful day. So beautiful in fact, that fairly quickly after I woke, I sat outside on the porch in the sun. Sun is rare in Washington, and it’s nice for it to seem warm enough to be able to enjoy it so early in the morning.

When we moved out here into the county, it was the end of Summer, and September. It’s still nice and warm in September, but It fades quickly into fall. Being able to sit, and listen and hear and be a part of the country is a nice experience.

I saw out on the porch, smelling the new plant life coming out into the world, looking at the dew sparkling across the lawn, hearing the birds sing with each other as they do their dance of the worms.

It was the flies that did it. The sounds of the flies zipping back and forth, seeing them spiral around each other, knowing they’re in the bushes, in the ditches lining the road. Then the sounds of the tractors getting going as well. It all reminded me of being at my Granny’s house in Wales.

I felt the surge, the longing to go back there, the longing to just transfer everything I was sensing in my surroundings and just be transplanted in her hard, on top of that hill at the tip of the peninsula. The only thing missing was the calls of the sheep, which surround her house.

I have such a love/hate relationship with Wales. I had such a hard time being there, trying to fit in, trying to make friends, trying to still be myself. I had a hard time with most of the people there. It’s the land that I miss. There’s the energy that calls to me, all the time. I try to ignore it, but I am constantly yearning for that place.

Living there just about killed me.

Then there’s Granny. By not being for here now I feel as though I have let her down. Now is her time of need and I’m not there. I could be transplanted into her yard, sit on a summer day and just listen to everything. I could smell the flowers, hear the flies, watch the lambs. I could drink good tea and just be in love with the land.

But the reality is not what it is in my head.

Granny no longer lives there, the house is greatly neglected. Granny is no longer Granny, but swallowed into a situation she was forced into due to misunderstanding and neglect. She is in a home for people with dimentia and she isn’t one of them. She just can’t hear. So she’s alone in this place, with people whose minds are melting away, with staff that won’t get her hearing aids fixed so that she can be a part of the world.

It breaks my heart. I hate that I’m not over there. I hate that she’s not over here. I hate that my entire life, my goal was to live with her and take care of her when she was in need. She is in need right now and I am six and a half thousand miles away from her, listening to the flies and missing the sheep.

I feel guilty for trying to go to school at this point, guilty that I am being so selfish as to try to improve my life when I should be helping the quality of her’s. I should be over there, fixing up Craig Fryn, being a live-in caregiver for her so she can at least have the comfort of being in her own home. I should be trying to get her dog back for her from my uncle. I should be trying to do something, ANYTHING! Yet, I’m not. I’m throwing down roots to stay in one place for the next six years.

I have lived a charmed life. I have never had to deal with letting go of someone close to me, deal with the deterioration of a family relationship like this. I have never had to let go of something that has seemed so fixed in my life. I don’t know how to do this. Everything in me tells me I should just be over there, but I know that I am not strong enough to be over there, not without my other half, who has already said no.

How on earth do I deal with this?

Granny and Me, Aberdaron, North Wales 2011


3 thoughts on “Letting Go

  1. Pingback: 100th Post | Scribing English

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