With the arrival of Baby almost two years ago, I've had it in my head that I should head down to Albuquerque with Baby in tow to get a five generation picture of all of us with my Granddad McMillin. It didn't go down exactly how I had hoped, but in the end, it was an emotional and wonderful weekend.
I contacted my mom about it all. After all, she's generation number two. She told me, via email, that she wouldn't be able to go until next year. This didn't surprise me--my mother never agrees to anything, and I have no doubt that next year, if I contacted her again, she would put me off until an even later date. When I contacted Vannette (my granddad's wife) about the date, she told me she wasn't sure waiting would work because my granddad is dying.
Hold the phones. What?
That's right. Vannette told me that he was dying, and she assumed that I knew because she had told my mother this information last year.
Feather #1,762 in my dysfunctional mother-daughter relationship cap.
Nope, my mother didn't tell me. I haven't spoken to my mother in over four years, and getting her to respond to an email is near impossible.
So, I then wrote a scathing email to my mother about what a horrible person she is...and I deleted it, but boy, sometimes it sure feels good to just get those thoughts out on paper. I did send a two sentence email, telling her that we would be going to Albuquerque in October and she was invited to come. #bravome #checkthebox
I also knew that Janet lives in Albuquerque. Janet was the second wife of my dad, and one of the nicest persons I've ever met. I know I've written about her before, but the two weeks I spent with her and my dad before he was tragically killed in a glider accident back in 1983 were some of the happiest two weeks of my childhood. In fact, I came home from that trip and told my mother that I didn't want to live with her anymore, but I wanted to live with them. She stopped talking to me for the three weeks leading up to my father's death. It was only because he died and she had to tell me about it that her silence was broken. Nothing like a good death to bring us closer together....
Jan had seen pictures of me visiting Albuquerque before on Facebook, and she had told me that if I was ever in the area again, I should come by for a visit.
I have to stop here for a moment and explain why this might have proven difficult in the past. Most kids have two families--their mom's and their dad's. Because my dad remarried, and because my mom remarried, I have four families. You'd think I'd hit the jackpot, right? With the exception of my Caruthers grandparents (my abusive step-father's parents), none of those families has ever reached out to me. They hold family reunions, and I am never invited. I chalk most of this up to the fact that most of them don't know me, or they only know me through my mom, and since my mom can't form a relationship to save her life, and since she's basically offended the entire world, I can understand why they don't see me as worth much of anything. But I won't lie. It's terribly hard on my feelings of self worth when I have double the number of families most people have, and none of them want to have anything to do with me. It's always me doing the reaching out, and each time I have this ridiculous hope that someone will love me and will want me to be part of their lives.
So, remembering Jan as this wonderfully warm and loving person, I kind of wanted to keep it that way. I worried that if we met up again, she would be nice to me as many family members have been but then go on with their own family lives which wouldn't include me. Did I really want to open that Pandora's box?
I think Ethan and I both had the same idea of what the weekend would be like. We would spend countless hours with Granddad and Vannette and possibly not have time to do anything else. That Granddad, in Ethan's words, would be the main attraction. However, it didn't happen that way.
Granddad has a pain in his head. It started behind his ear and it has moved to his frontal lobe. Vannette has taken Granddad to the VA hospital and to the UNM hospital, but no doctor can figure out what is wrong....and I imagine at 96 years of age, none of them really wants to take the time to figure it out or take on the risk. He's tried every kind of opioid for the pain, but supposedly nothing works (although with my extensive history of opioids, that's hard for me to imagine). So, Vannette has begun self-medicating Granddad with the advice of a holistic "medical" person. In other words, she's giving him medical marijuana for his pain.
The first night we showed up, Granddad was a shell of his former self. Vannette chalks it up to dementia, but it wasn't until I saw him animated and closer to his old self on the second night that I realized he's not demented at all--he's stoned. She says he can't remember things, but it's not that--it's that he can't even think because his brain is so foggy. It was incredibly frustrating for me to see him receiving incorrect medical care and maintaining a poor quality of life, but I didn't feel as if I could say anything, seeing as I'm just flying in for the weekend for a picture. Vannette lives with him all day, every day and lives through the ups and downs. At age 96, if he does die, no one can say he didn't live life to the fullest and right to the end. My hope would be though that he doesn't continue on like this for years.
Within an hour of being at their home, we discovered that Granddad and Vannette aren't the only ones living in their home. Chris, Vannette's son from another marriage, lives in their backyard, in a tent, with his 100 pound dog. He's probably 60, divorced, and I don't believe he has a job. Vannette's other daughter from that same marriage lives in Albuquerque too, is also divorced and doesn't know where one of her two children lives. Their daughter, Laura (who is perhaps eight years older than me), lives in South Dakota with her boyfriend. I won't lie--it's pretty difficult seeing how much time, effort and devotion Granddad and Vannette have given those kids...and how little they have given me when my life is something to celebrate. However, I chalk it up again to my mom. She severed ties with them decades ago, and why would they think I would be any different? Of course, in my sad pathetic mind, I think that they could have at least tried with me, but what can I say?
We didn't do much while there. Vannette seemed stressed about cooking for us, and Granddad was too stoned to even communicate. Baby ran around though with their dog, Sammy, and Glo spent some solid time looking for old video game systems. We did manage to get the five generation picture the next day when Granddad seemed much better.
Thankfully, we'd spent some time shopping in Albuquerque that day. We found some beautiful jewelry at The Palms, and we found the most amazing clothes for Baby at The Baby Gap. Shoes, a new winter coat, and Justice League clothes! Too, we were on the hunt for the best sopapillas in town. El Patio had those and more! In the end, we ordered seven sopapillas (complete with a full honey bottle) and we split a plate of chicken fajitas. All real New Mexican food and just delicious. Plus, we sat outside so Baby could run around, and the weather was just perfect.
So I contacted Jan. I must admit that I had some preconceived notions about seeing her, having reconnected with Meg. But in the end, she was everything I remembered. She was kind, and loving, and welcoming, and talkative. She did cut me off anytime I tried to say anything (even after she asked me questions about myself), but she treated my kids and Baby like kings and queens. And after all, that's all I've ever wanted from family.
Then, she told me that she had some pictures of me to show me. I don't have any pictures of myself as a child, so she was going to show me that some existed :-). Boy-o, I was not expecting my reaction to it all. In fact, I don't think I can detail most of the event because it was such an emotional five minutes.
I have never seen a picture of me hanging in a home of my family (with the exception, again, of the Caruthers). My mother never hung a picture of me, and to this day, she doesn't even put our Christmas card on her refrigerator. She has pictures of dogs, but not of my kids. Granddad and Vannette don't have a picture of me hanging, and the Apgars certainly don't have anything. But I walked into her basement office, and there on the wall (gosh darn it, here come the stupid tears!) were framed pictures of Brent and Meg...and me. I could hardly believe it. And it's not like she put them up that day because she knew I was coming--they were just mixed in with the others. And to think, that after 30 years of my dad being dead, she still hangs pictures of me on her wall. I wasn't expecting to see anything like that, and I just lost it. Like, huge tears running down my face, and I couldn't even speak. Then, she pulled me over to a side wall, and there was a small picture of me and my dad. He was teaching me to ride a bike. We were both looking up at the camera. Again, I couldn't even speak. I have no memories of a 5-month stint I spent living with my dad in Albuquerque when I was five years old (while my mom was in medical school), but there was proof that I had in fact known him at some point in my life.
Jan just kept talking to me about that time (while I wept), and she hugged me. I can't even remember the last time my mom hugged me. Like, really hugged me.
I would have loved to have stayed, but in reality, I had to get out of there. I wasn't prepared emotionally for any of that. I wasn't prepared for someone to care about me and my kids. I wasn't prepared to be hugged. I wasn't prepared for the love. It's just so painful to think of the life I could've had with my dad and Jan, and it was even more painful to think of how badly I was treated for so many years by my mom.
We said a quick goodbye, but it wasn't until I was out in the car that I remembered that I needed a picture. And I do not kid you, it is one of the happiest pictures I've ever seen of myself. What a blessing.
Of course, after this I was just a mess, and my poor kids weren't sporting shoulders big enough for the burdens. We went to Schlotzsky's to pick up sandwiches to take to the McMillins, and I could hardly process anything that had just happened. We just acted like nothing really had just happened...and Ethan and Glo went into a back room to play some of Vannette's old video games (Glo had been successful in her hunting...)
However, the feelings were still there. In fact, when I boarded the plane home the next morning and looked at the pages from a photo album that Jan had given me and which featured me and my dad, I was crying in the middle seat. It wasn't until I got in the car with John on the way home from DTW that I let it all out. Just out-loud sobbing for how sad I felt about my childhood. So much sadness, and so much wondering about what could have been.
Everyday I struggle with feeling good about myself. If I'm with people, I constantly second guess what am I and how I act, and I question why they would even want to be around me. If I'm alone, I worry that nobody wants to be with me. I know people who don't struggle with these problems. My kids are great examples. And I chalk up that way of being to having a sense of belonging in a family.
I'm glad I went to Albuquerque. I'm so glad. But I won't lie--it gets tiring to be the one always reaching out. Always looking for the love. I wish at some point, my extended family would reach out to me and want to share the love.
I contacted my mom about it all. After all, she's generation number two. She told me, via email, that she wouldn't be able to go until next year. This didn't surprise me--my mother never agrees to anything, and I have no doubt that next year, if I contacted her again, she would put me off until an even later date. When I contacted Vannette (my granddad's wife) about the date, she told me she wasn't sure waiting would work because my granddad is dying.
Hold the phones. What?
That's right. Vannette told me that he was dying, and she assumed that I knew because she had told my mother this information last year.
Feather #1,762 in my dysfunctional mother-daughter relationship cap.
Nope, my mother didn't tell me. I haven't spoken to my mother in over four years, and getting her to respond to an email is near impossible.
So, I then wrote a scathing email to my mother about what a horrible person she is...and I deleted it, but boy, sometimes it sure feels good to just get those thoughts out on paper. I did send a two sentence email, telling her that we would be going to Albuquerque in October and she was invited to come. #bravome #checkthebox
I also knew that Janet lives in Albuquerque. Janet was the second wife of my dad, and one of the nicest persons I've ever met. I know I've written about her before, but the two weeks I spent with her and my dad before he was tragically killed in a glider accident back in 1983 were some of the happiest two weeks of my childhood. In fact, I came home from that trip and told my mother that I didn't want to live with her anymore, but I wanted to live with them. She stopped talking to me for the three weeks leading up to my father's death. It was only because he died and she had to tell me about it that her silence was broken. Nothing like a good death to bring us closer together....
Jan had seen pictures of me visiting Albuquerque before on Facebook, and she had told me that if I was ever in the area again, I should come by for a visit.
I have to stop here for a moment and explain why this might have proven difficult in the past. Most kids have two families--their mom's and their dad's. Because my dad remarried, and because my mom remarried, I have four families. You'd think I'd hit the jackpot, right? With the exception of my Caruthers grandparents (my abusive step-father's parents), none of those families has ever reached out to me. They hold family reunions, and I am never invited. I chalk most of this up to the fact that most of them don't know me, or they only know me through my mom, and since my mom can't form a relationship to save her life, and since she's basically offended the entire world, I can understand why they don't see me as worth much of anything. But I won't lie. It's terribly hard on my feelings of self worth when I have double the number of families most people have, and none of them want to have anything to do with me. It's always me doing the reaching out, and each time I have this ridiculous hope that someone will love me and will want me to be part of their lives.
So, remembering Jan as this wonderfully warm and loving person, I kind of wanted to keep it that way. I worried that if we met up again, she would be nice to me as many family members have been but then go on with their own family lives which wouldn't include me. Did I really want to open that Pandora's box?
I think Ethan and I both had the same idea of what the weekend would be like. We would spend countless hours with Granddad and Vannette and possibly not have time to do anything else. That Granddad, in Ethan's words, would be the main attraction. However, it didn't happen that way.
Granddad has a pain in his head. It started behind his ear and it has moved to his frontal lobe. Vannette has taken Granddad to the VA hospital and to the UNM hospital, but no doctor can figure out what is wrong....and I imagine at 96 years of age, none of them really wants to take the time to figure it out or take on the risk. He's tried every kind of opioid for the pain, but supposedly nothing works (although with my extensive history of opioids, that's hard for me to imagine). So, Vannette has begun self-medicating Granddad with the advice of a holistic "medical" person. In other words, she's giving him medical marijuana for his pain.
The first night we showed up, Granddad was a shell of his former self. Vannette chalks it up to dementia, but it wasn't until I saw him animated and closer to his old self on the second night that I realized he's not demented at all--he's stoned. She says he can't remember things, but it's not that--it's that he can't even think because his brain is so foggy. It was incredibly frustrating for me to see him receiving incorrect medical care and maintaining a poor quality of life, but I didn't feel as if I could say anything, seeing as I'm just flying in for the weekend for a picture. Vannette lives with him all day, every day and lives through the ups and downs. At age 96, if he does die, no one can say he didn't live life to the fullest and right to the end. My hope would be though that he doesn't continue on like this for years.
Within an hour of being at their home, we discovered that Granddad and Vannette aren't the only ones living in their home. Chris, Vannette's son from another marriage, lives in their backyard, in a tent, with his 100 pound dog. He's probably 60, divorced, and I don't believe he has a job. Vannette's other daughter from that same marriage lives in Albuquerque too, is also divorced and doesn't know where one of her two children lives. Their daughter, Laura (who is perhaps eight years older than me), lives in South Dakota with her boyfriend. I won't lie--it's pretty difficult seeing how much time, effort and devotion Granddad and Vannette have given those kids...and how little they have given me when my life is something to celebrate. However, I chalk it up again to my mom. She severed ties with them decades ago, and why would they think I would be any different? Of course, in my sad pathetic mind, I think that they could have at least tried with me, but what can I say?
We didn't do much while there. Vannette seemed stressed about cooking for us, and Granddad was too stoned to even communicate. Baby ran around though with their dog, Sammy, and Glo spent some solid time looking for old video game systems. We did manage to get the five generation picture the next day when Granddad seemed much better.
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| Glo and Ethan (fourth generation), Annie (fifth generation), Granddad (first generation), Larisa (third generation) My mother, Barbara McMillin (second generation)--not pictured |
Thankfully, we'd spent some time shopping in Albuquerque that day. We found some beautiful jewelry at The Palms, and we found the most amazing clothes for Baby at The Baby Gap. Shoes, a new winter coat, and Justice League clothes! Too, we were on the hunt for the best sopapillas in town. El Patio had those and more! In the end, we ordered seven sopapillas (complete with a full honey bottle) and we split a plate of chicken fajitas. All real New Mexican food and just delicious. Plus, we sat outside so Baby could run around, and the weather was just perfect.
 |
| Man, it was good to see Glo again too. I do NOT like having her living so far away. |
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| I love the Southwest. Maybe it's because I grew up there? I was so happy to see that Ethan choose a very traditional piece of male jewelry to show off his roots :-) |
Then, she told me that she had some pictures of me to show me. I don't have any pictures of myself as a child, so she was going to show me that some existed :-). Boy-o, I was not expecting my reaction to it all. In fact, I don't think I can detail most of the event because it was such an emotional five minutes.
I have never seen a picture of me hanging in a home of my family (with the exception, again, of the Caruthers). My mother never hung a picture of me, and to this day, she doesn't even put our Christmas card on her refrigerator. She has pictures of dogs, but not of my kids. Granddad and Vannette don't have a picture of me hanging, and the Apgars certainly don't have anything. But I walked into her basement office, and there on the wall (gosh darn it, here come the stupid tears!) were framed pictures of Brent and Meg...and me. I could hardly believe it. And it's not like she put them up that day because she knew I was coming--they were just mixed in with the others. And to think, that after 30 years of my dad being dead, she still hangs pictures of me on her wall. I wasn't expecting to see anything like that, and I just lost it. Like, huge tears running down my face, and I couldn't even speak. Then, she pulled me over to a side wall, and there was a small picture of me and my dad. He was teaching me to ride a bike. We were both looking up at the camera. Again, I couldn't even speak. I have no memories of a 5-month stint I spent living with my dad in Albuquerque when I was five years old (while my mom was in medical school), but there was proof that I had in fact known him at some point in my life.
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| See Dad's great curly hair? I'm happy to see that both Ethan and Hannie have it too :-) |
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| Mark says that he can see me in every facet of my Dad's face in this picture. |
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| But I feel like Mark could be a brother to my dad in this picture! |
I would have loved to have stayed, but in reality, I had to get out of there. I wasn't prepared emotionally for any of that. I wasn't prepared for someone to care about me and my kids. I wasn't prepared to be hugged. I wasn't prepared for the love. It's just so painful to think of the life I could've had with my dad and Jan, and it was even more painful to think of how badly I was treated for so many years by my mom.
We said a quick goodbye, but it wasn't until I was out in the car that I remembered that I needed a picture. And I do not kid you, it is one of the happiest pictures I've ever seen of myself. What a blessing.
 |
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Everyday I struggle with feeling good about myself. If I'm with people, I constantly second guess what am I and how I act, and I question why they would even want to be around me. If I'm alone, I worry that nobody wants to be with me. I know people who don't struggle with these problems. My kids are great examples. And I chalk up that way of being to having a sense of belonging in a family.
I'm glad I went to Albuquerque. I'm so glad. But I won't lie--it gets tiring to be the one always reaching out. Always looking for the love. I wish at some point, my extended family would reach out to me and want to share the love.
Oh Larisa, what a treasure those pictures must be to you! I can't imagine that anyone who had been given the chance to know you wouldn't want you in their lives. You're amazing, and funny, and selfless, and talented, and intelligent, and basically perfection. I'm sorry that because of your past you struggle with feeling good about yourself. I hope it helps a little to know how very much you're loved by me. xoxo
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