I recently had the chance to spend a weekend at my grandparents' house in Maine. They passed away (she in 1999 and he in 2007) and now my mom and her siblings are trying to get it set up as a rental. It is an okay house as houses go. The view and setting is what really sets it. The house is actually on a bluff, as in walk too many feet past the driveway and you might drop and hit the breakers kind of bluff. You can see endless ocean and a lighthouse and all sorts of boats and buoys and gen-u-ine Maine beauty.
I swore I would never sleep there. EVER. Ever, ever, ever, ever, ever.
I loved/love my grandparents but that house was theirs and it is freaky to think of settling in at night in the room next to the one my grandmother died in. Or using the shower my grandfather used so infrequently as he got older and needed to be reminded of more things. Plus- who would make me root beer floats if I was behaving nicely?
However, my baby sister (not my baby, baby sister mind you but my regular baby sister) and her husband of a year were flying in from the west coast and we all really wanted to see them. And "due to the current economic climate we are unable to "fill in the blank______." Here the blank was pay last minute prices for a hotel in the high season on the coast of Maine. There is always the option of staying with one of my parents but my dearly beloved and I have decided against that for various reasons. So that left us with Dearly Departed Loved Ones Creepy Mc-Seaside-Escape and Resort. I cannot even tell you how many precious minutes of therapy I spent discussing rational vs. irrational concerns, grounding techniques and ways to deal with my family while I tried to avoid seeing dead people. (god rest their souls)
So we went. It wasn't as bad as I had expected- no visits from beyond over breakfast or while gazing through Grampa's binoculars. Hmmm. A lot of changes had been made to the house physically which is only a help in the finding renters department because as fabulous as my grandmother was she really could have used a color session or whatever they call it when they "do your colors." Aqua and Moroccan orange were not hers and they certainly were not those of the house. There was still work to be done but my sister and her husband had a firm hand on it and my help only proved problematic so I settled into uselessness and poking people.
I love my family. You know whenever someone leads with that there is more than chocolates and popsicles coming. They are amazing and wonderful and we are all completely out of our minds in one way or another. We function in our worlds and when we mix can pull it off for a while but there will invariably be some discord. Unheard of I am sure- we must be unique as each time an argument erupts it does seem like there has never been anyone in the world who has had experiences like ours that would lead to fights like ours. I'm guessing I'm wrong.
Anyway (I hate when I say that but I have yet to hone my transition skills so enjoy or complain but get used to it for now while I work at it please)- my constant worry is that my family is afraid that I am surrounded by eggshells. Or that my reactions are more than what they seem; that they can't be simple irritation or fatigue but most be signs of a coming melt-down. I need to find a way to fix that but the time spent in Maine made it feel particularly necessary.
Everyone knows/knew my feelings about the house, about Maine, coming "home," my health carpola, blah blah. Even when I stopped waiting for Grandma to appear from her sewing room with half a quilt and suggest I go play under the stairs (that sounds WAY crazier than I meant it) it seemed my family still was waiting for me to shiver in the night, be terribly on edge or bust out with anxiety. Maybe I was. Maybe I did. My current vision is poor and my hindsight is definitely not 20/20 so I would have to take a poll. History takes a toll on all of us and in my case that toll is that sometimes things feel icky. But guess what- I am quite confident many could say the same and I could be the icky making factor.
How do you resolve the ick when it is so individualized but comes from a common thread?
It is hard to evaluate yourself and to guess what other people are thinking about- especially family. It is also a very dangerous practice that leads to people you love becoming very angry or hurt. They all know I love them beyond the beyond and I assume the same in reverse. One of these days I will learn to act after thinking and think things from a more muitli-dimensional view before the acting part.
The good news is that the house my grandparents love although it will never be a second home or a dreamy summer retreat for me, has the potential to be a place I can go and be with my sisters and their families whether we're staying at hotels or the house itself. I don't know that my grandmother would have been happy with all the changes and my grandfather certainly would have had something to say about the use of conventional methods to secure things. He preferred twist-ties, rubber bands and bits of string. Maybe next visit I'll wiggle loose a handle just to tighten it back up with a paperclip. Then I'll watch the boats for a spell with my family.
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