Friday – Gloom, Despair, and Agony on She
Jun. 4th, 2010 04:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore.
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My Aunt Jo, who goes by her first name Leslie with everyone but her family, is recovering from a heart attack. She is the mother of my late cousin Carol, who went by her first name Leslie with everyone but her family. Since I considered myself to be a friend as well as family to her, I always called my Cousin Carol “Leslie.” I would love to hear my cousin Leslie’s take on her mother having a heart attack and not telling anyone in the family that it happened. She’d be fuming, but when she fumed she was catty and sharp-tongued and it was always entertaining to hear. Of all the things I miss about Leslie Carol, I think I miss her fury the most – she expressed it so much better than anyone else.
My big-sister-cousin that I call Frankie was put out to hear about Aunt Jo’s heart attack so long after the fact and rather hurt. My little-sister-cousin, Aly, only heard through the grapevine a couple of weeks ago herself and was forbidden to pass along the information under threat of death. This is an exaggeration, of course. We threaten death a lot in my family, but to my knowledge no one had ever actually killed anyone.
For all the lack of charity my cousin Frankie has for my aunt and her refusal to keep us all informed, I think I understand Jo’s logic. She is a drama queen, and it is not convenient to have everyone be very nice and caring toward you when are looking for drama. It is better to not tell your family that you are on your deathbed, and then when the nice ladies from your church (not to mention your pastor) pay you a visit, you can sadly sigh and truthfully tell them that not one of your relatives – not one! – has visited you or even sent flowers to cheer you up. It would not be good to be saying this and have a niece walk in with a nice bouquet of flowers and a lovely card to display on the windowsill of your room. Then people would not feel sorry for you so much. No, it is better for them to talk among themselves and confirm that no, they haven’t seen any family visit, either, and how sad it is, really, for her to be so alone and without family at this point in her life. How tragic that she has outlived her husband and daughter, not to mention the heartbreaking fate of her only grandchild.
As much sympathy and comfort as her family could have offered, it paled compared to being the object of pity for her neighbors, fellow church members, and the hospital staff in general. Lets face it: your family feels obliged to be nice to you when you’re sick. Most people have relatives, so the love of family doesn’t really make you special, if you know what I mean. It might make you feel better, but it does nothing for your self esteem. When you can get nurses who don’t even know you to treat you like their own grandmother, and casual acquaintances to drop by and sit with you for hours on end because they know that without them, you’d be all alone, that makes you feel like a queen.
I’d love the chance to hear my cousin, the late great Leslie Carol Crawford – biker chick, flower child, and survivor of a spectacularly dysfunctional childhood with her spectacularly dysfunctional mother – would have to say about this latest development. I’ve sure it would involve more than a few words not suitable for the ears of the sweet Lutheran ladies gathered around her mother’s bedside to make up for her negligent, uncaring family. She’d swear, and she’d rant, and she’d rave, and then she’d see that her mama was taken care of: because the only thing bigger and more amazing than Leslie’s fury, was Leslie's heart.
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.
.
My Aunt Jo, who goes by her first name Leslie with everyone but her family, is recovering from a heart attack. She is the mother of my late cousin Carol, who went by her first name Leslie with everyone but her family. Since I considered myself to be a friend as well as family to her, I always called my Cousin Carol “Leslie.” I would love to hear my cousin Leslie’s take on her mother having a heart attack and not telling anyone in the family that it happened. She’d be fuming, but when she fumed she was catty and sharp-tongued and it was always entertaining to hear. Of all the things I miss about Leslie Carol, I think I miss her fury the most – she expressed it so much better than anyone else.
My big-sister-cousin that I call Frankie was put out to hear about Aunt Jo’s heart attack so long after the fact and rather hurt. My little-sister-cousin, Aly, only heard through the grapevine a couple of weeks ago herself and was forbidden to pass along the information under threat of death. This is an exaggeration, of course. We threaten death a lot in my family, but to my knowledge no one had ever actually killed anyone.
For all the lack of charity my cousin Frankie has for my aunt and her refusal to keep us all informed, I think I understand Jo’s logic. She is a drama queen, and it is not convenient to have everyone be very nice and caring toward you when are looking for drama. It is better to not tell your family that you are on your deathbed, and then when the nice ladies from your church (not to mention your pastor) pay you a visit, you can sadly sigh and truthfully tell them that not one of your relatives – not one! – has visited you or even sent flowers to cheer you up. It would not be good to be saying this and have a niece walk in with a nice bouquet of flowers and a lovely card to display on the windowsill of your room. Then people would not feel sorry for you so much. No, it is better for them to talk among themselves and confirm that no, they haven’t seen any family visit, either, and how sad it is, really, for her to be so alone and without family at this point in her life. How tragic that she has outlived her husband and daughter, not to mention the heartbreaking fate of her only grandchild.
As much sympathy and comfort as her family could have offered, it paled compared to being the object of pity for her neighbors, fellow church members, and the hospital staff in general. Lets face it: your family feels obliged to be nice to you when you’re sick. Most people have relatives, so the love of family doesn’t really make you special, if you know what I mean. It might make you feel better, but it does nothing for your self esteem. When you can get nurses who don’t even know you to treat you like their own grandmother, and casual acquaintances to drop by and sit with you for hours on end because they know that without them, you’d be all alone, that makes you feel like a queen.
I’d love the chance to hear my cousin, the late great Leslie Carol Crawford – biker chick, flower child, and survivor of a spectacularly dysfunctional childhood with her spectacularly dysfunctional mother – would have to say about this latest development. I’ve sure it would involve more than a few words not suitable for the ears of the sweet Lutheran ladies gathered around her mother’s bedside to make up for her negligent, uncaring family. She’d swear, and she’d rant, and she’d rave, and then she’d see that her mama was taken care of: because the only thing bigger and more amazing than Leslie’s fury, was Leslie's heart.
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no subject
Date: 2010-06-07 01:50 pm (UTC)While it's true that no one has ever ACTUALLY killed anyone else in our family, there have been quite a few incidents of "You are DEAD to me!" Of course, time heals even virtual death, eventually, but not without a LOT of drama, first. I mean, I'm a card-carrying Drama Queen (and the only member of the family who ever tried to make an official living as such), and even I get overwhelmed by it all!
Mom says that Jo CLAIMS that she was trying to avoid being buried before she died. There is still a branch of the family that tends to do that, to some extent. But frankly, I think your hypothesis may be more accurate. :D
no subject
Date: 2010-06-07 03:21 pm (UTC)