Grit your teeth and keep your eyes on the karma

Got a funny email from my dad this morning, an all-out rant regarding the latest Grandma incident.

This was not a good day for us. It began at 6 a.m. with Grandma outside the door saying "I don’t feel good." Mom was not in her usual place because I had snored too loudly for her delicate ears. So I attempted to ignore the wake-up call until the door opened and the light was turned on and Grandma said, "Daughter, where are you?" The old bear was roused from his hibernation and growled loudly....SHE’S NOT HERE ... NOW LEAVE ME ALONE. She then proceeded to the front bedroom to find her daughter…As the bear fumed and tried to return to sleep, it was an impossible task ... all I heard was groaning and coughing and I finally gave up and got up. After a bite to eat, I headed out of the house for a walk, hoping that Goldilocks would come and render assistance … Later, as I was sitting in the Archie Bunker chair, the wake-up artist came and said, "Is lunch ready?" Of course, the bear had a sly remark: "I thought you were sick ... can you eat?" The answer? YES! Then she said, "Daughter said you were going to move out." That really got me going and I said, “If anyone goes, it will be you.” Yes, I know, I should have kept my mouth shut, but I never do what I should do.

My parents inherited my 84-year-old grandmother after my uncle David “took care of her” by emptying her savings account, paying off his condo, buying himself a new boat and a truck for his youngest son, and then disappearing when confronted by her worried daughter and the authorities.

Dad and Grandma have never gotten along. Ever. She thought he was a tightwad. Mean-spirited. She didn’t think he was good enough for her daughter. They fought all the time.

Many of their battles took place over me. When I was about 3, my grandfather died of a devastating battle with lymphoma. Mamaw redirected her grief into a hyper-attachment to me, her eldest grandchild. I’m not proud of the fact, but I was her favorite. Everything I did was, in her eyes, absolutely charming.

I have a vivid memory of my grandmother facing down my dad over something I’d done at a family reunion. I was probably 5 or 6 at the time, I don’t remember what I’d done (Dad said I was behaving badly toward my sister), but he wanted to spank me. Mamaw picked me up and I clung to her with a death grip. She wouldn’t let go, and Dad couldn’t pry me off of her. I escaped that time, but I’ll bet the next time I acted up, he spanked me twice as long and hard.

I respect my dad for doing the right thing, taking responsibility for a woman who never liked him and who constantly interfered in his marriage and his family. It speaks volumes: do the right thing, even if you don’t like it.

And trust me, he doesn’t.