Fixing the Distance

My relationship with my grandmother has never been a mystery to most people who know me.  My memories of our relationship are not what I would really think of the typical grandmother/granddaughter relationship.
Nana and I never baked cookies together when I was a kid.
I never really even looked forward to going to her house much, to tell the truth.
There was so much stress and tension in our relationship, simply because I felt no real affection emanating from her toward me (at least not all that often).  Expressions regarding my weight…my excessive weight were more likely to be heard from her than I love you.

I remember one particular time my brothers and I were staying with Nana and Papaw – typically when my parents were out-of-town (mostly for visits to the Mayo Clinic for Mom’s check-ups) – I remember I’d taken my bike with me (we only lived a block and a half from them as we grew up).  I was riding my bike around the block and wrecked.  I remember walking my bike back to the house, tears streaming down my face.  I remember my grandmother poking her head out the upstairs window and calling out to me, What are you crying about now!?  My grandfather was the one that took me in, examined my bumps and scraps, and cleaned them up for me.

It was in my grandfather’s lap I’d sit at night and rock. 

Over the past several years, really since I made my first trip to Northern Ireland, I’ve seen a change in our relationship.  Maybe there’s more a sense of kinship now, I’m not sure.  But things are slightly different. 
There aren’t the constant remarks concerning my weight and occasionally Nana will say she loves me.

I think maybe that’s what makes these last couple weeks so…confusing for me.

All my life I’ve felt cheated out of a relationship with my grandmother.  I’m not sure how many times I’ve thought, had my dad’s mother not died before I was born….then I’d have a real grandmother.
And part of me feels shame for thinking such thoughts…
But, given the track record with my grandmother…I don’t know that one would blame me.

I remember in high school, my mom was going back to the Clinic for a procedure.  Michael and I were going to stay with Nana and Papaw, but I ended up making arrangements to stay with a friend.  I was shaking as I called Nana to tell her I’d be staying somewhere else, that I thought it best for both of us, given the tense relationship we had.  Well, you’re the one who never get’s along, she snapped over the phone.
I hung up in tears that day and took my bags over to my friend’s house.

I’ve learned to do what’s asked of me, driving my grandmother somewhere when needed…offering her a chair when she comes in.  Sometimes we even talk and carry on a decent conversation.  Though most times, if I’m sitting at the store and she comes in especially, we’ll sit in silence for a few minutes and then I’ll get up and walk away.

I’ve never known how to carry on a conversation with her….and it saddens me.

For two weeks, now, Nana’s been clinging onto life following  major hear surgery.  She’s been on a respirator, sedated, battling kidney failure.  I watch my family members respond with tears and anxious prayers for a full recovery.  I hear the doctor’s reports, some days are good and some days (like today) aren’t. 
We’re not sure how she’ll fair once she’s off the respirator, if and when the fluid build-up is alleviated (they did a round of dialysis today to help) if she’ll even make a turn around.  She’s barely awake as it is….

It pains me to see my family hurting.
It pains me to see my grandmother failing…

It pains me to think of what I’ve missed out on all these years….what could have been.
It pains me to think…that should she make a full recovery…I have no idea how to even begin fixing the distance that has plagued us all my life.