Invasion? Jealousy? Envy? or just pure hate?

      As I have stated before, I was brought to the Green household when I was a toddler, 2 years old.  I do remember visiting my Mom in her house throughout my younger years, I remember certain things like her having a wooden cable spool table which was stained with a very dark stain, her burning incense, and I have a really strong memory of her taking a bubble bath and calling me to come into the bathroom while she was in the bath.  I have no idea what she wanted, but this is an odd thing I remember.  I do know I was visiting her long enough for her to pierce my ears with a needle.  I don't remember it being done but my Grandma did tell me all about how she had to add another piece of string every day to make the hole bigger, basically re-piercing my ears over and over.  Now holes are basically a slit in my ear (age does this 😏)

     I think that the idea of me joining the Green household really must have had an impact on my aunt Angie.  She was eight years older than I was so there was a little bit of an age gap, just enough to maybe get the "invasion" feeling.

     I don't remember a whole lot of problems of course before elementary school but as I got older she got more mean.  I did get in trouble it seemed like a lot when growing up.  I don't know exactly what I did wrong when I would get in trouble especially prior to the teenage years but I did get in trouble.  I didn't get spanked on my butt growing up however, I would be slapped across the face quicker than myself actually getting the "B" out of my mouth for the word "But".   I really don't remember doing things to get myself in trouble.  I probably made a face I was not supposed to make at the time, or just didn't get up fast enough when I was a teen.  I do know I had a messy room.  That got me in a lot of trouble.

     As I got older, I would see my Aunt would get everything she wanted from my Grandparents, she had a special bond with my Grandma, she would be given dogs to show, she would go to dog training and the shows with my Grandma, she would do ceramics with my Grandma, do arts and crafts with my Grandma, etc. and when she needed money my Grandpa would give her money whenever she wanted.  When it was time to do chores, I would have to get up, do my chores and "get outside, I don't want to smell you in the house!".  That is usually when I went into the woods to make a fort or go across the street to fish or hang out with the Wymans across the street.  However, my aunt was able to hang out inside the house and bake or whatever she did with my Grandma.  Saying all of these things makes me sound like I was a little jealous, doesn't it?  Of course, I was!

     I was jealous because I was told over and over again "Bridget I will always be honest with you, you are not my daughter, you are my granddaughter"  Now, to my Grandma during that time it sounds very good, to be honest, and not leave anything behind or out of the story?  But it really wasn't good to the child that actually felt she was "not a daughter". And to be reminded that I was Susie's daughter, time and time again.  I looked just like Susie so I guess that is why I was reminded I was Susie's daughter.

     As I said earlier, my Aunt got crueler to me and would belittle me as I got older.  It seemed to me as though she took every chance she could to slap me and send me to my room when my Grandparents were not at home, and took each of those slap moments and tacked on a "you are just like your Mom!" insult.  But as soon as my Grandparents would get home I would be in trouble one more time because  my side of the story really didn't matter.  It was back to my room I go.

     One thing about what my Aunt did get right when she would say "you are just like your Mom!" or when I would hear her say "She is just like Susie", is that I had the temper of my Mom. From what I am told my Mom actually threw one of my Aunts through a screen door and jumped through a kitchen window to chase one of my Aunts down the driveway when they pissed her off.  I would see that temper later in life when some of the "fits" she would have would come to life.   My temper decided to show up when my friend Kristy was over to play, and for some reason, she got mad at me, sent Kristy home, and took me into the bathroom to yell at me and she slapped me across the face....hard.  My Aunt was a big girl compared to me, she probably weighed around 170 lbs at the time and I was small.  To me, she was very big. I got up, looked at her, and slapped her back, and told her that that was the last time she would slap me.  She went down to her knees in the bathroom, put her face in her hands, started balling big crocodile tears and yelling how terrible I was, and again, I was just like Susie!  Of course, as soon as my Grandparents came home, they didn't hear my side of the story.  Only Angie's.  

     That wasn't the last time she caught my temper.  There was a time when my Mom came home, I was around 15 or 16, I was very protective of my Mom and what people said about her, Angie said something to me and the story I was told was I took one of the dining room chairs over my head and went after my Aunt with it.  I believe my Mom was the one who stopped me.  I was actually so angry that time I blacked out during the incident and can't remember any portion of the chair lifting incident.  

     The bathroom incident was the last time Angie laid a hand on me.  However, she was still mean...mean....mean....mean!  For some reason, I felt as though I was completely hated or she was just disgusted by me.   But now that I think about it, maybe she was just jealous because I invaded her space? 

Christmas Time

Christmas eve was always good in the Green (My Grandparent's last name) household. The leading-up feeling to Christmas had me excited every year! Everything from my Grandpa complaining about having to bring the tree in, it being too tall and having to trim it, him complaining because he had to climb into the attic to get the decorations down....a whole lot of mumbling curse words while he was on a ladder to bring everything down. And then of-course being forced to sit on Santa's lap who and which I was so extremely scared of, to watching my Grandma and Aunt Angie baking cookies and make candies made it so exciting!

My Aunt Jean and Uncle Larry would come for Christmas eve and bring my cousins I think almost every year that I could remember. I think when my Aunt Mamie and Uncle Pete lived in Osseneke, MI, she would come on Christmas eve but I can't really remember them being there. I know when they moved to Traverse City they wouldn't come for Christmas, the visits would be very rare. Once-in-awhile my Grandma's siblings would come by on Christmas eve, if they would come out it would be my Uncle Bob and Aunt Darlene. We lived in a double-wide, it wasn't a very big house which made it feel like it was packed during the celebration. My Grandma would make dinner and about five different pies to fill my uncle's stomach until they would almost burst. The food and drinking a lot of beer would have everyone pretty stuffed.

After dinner, my Grandpa would take all of us kids out for a ride to find Rudolph! And of course, we found him. It was a blinking light in the sky everyone could see when there was a clear night because it was actually the airport light that would blink. The route he would take would be a loop so we actually wouldn't see Rudolph until the very end of the ride and after we saw him we would go back home.

Once we were back home we would see footprints from the snow in the living room and the tree would be packed with presents... Santa would have come to the house and not only would it be presented for me and my Aunt Angie but Santa would have stopped and dropped off gifts for my cousins also prior to him stopping at their house in the city when they returned home.

After all of the gifts were opened and the kids were playing with the gifts and just playing whatever they were playing and like clock-work, we would get a phone call from my Mom. This is when the long-distance phone calls would be "collect" calls. When the person calling didn't have enough money, or probably with my Mom's case she was calling from a payphone, the person on the receiving end of the call would have to pay for the phone call. I have no idea how much the collect phone calls were but I do remember what a big stink my Aunts would make when my Mom called and the complaints about how much money she was costing them. "Why does Susie always have to ruin Christmas?" I would hear from them. And then I would get the phone and hear "Hi baby girl!" "I miss you!" "I love you!" usually some other types of niceties in-between those statements which were her norm. I don't ever remember getting the collect call "will you accept the charges" from whatever jail she was in during Christmas. My Aunts (usually Angie) would say "what did she say? What did she want?" I think the only response I would give is a shoulder shrug and then move on to playing again.

Even though the phone call was a nuisance for folks sitting in the living room or maybe an annoyance, I actually liked the phone calls. I was reminded later in my 30s when my aunts would complain about the phone calls. They had no idea how it made a young girl who was missing her Mom feel hearing those comments every year.

I believe there may be only one Christmas she was home. I don't remember myself actually enjoying Christmas time with her.  I only have a photo. And the only reason why I think this is Christmas time is due to the homemade decorations hanging from the ceiling.

                                       1979: My Grandma, My Mom, My Aunt Jeanie (behind my Mom), My Aunt Mamie in the front

She's Here and Then She's Gone-Poof! Like Magic!

One memory I have with softball is the time my Mom came home and of course, she came home with a man. You know, for the life of me I don't know if I have seen this particular man this time or if it was a different guy. But the memory sticks with me but, I am not sure if I am combining two different memories. However, of course, I wanted so desperately was for her to watch me play softball.

I believe I was around 9 or 10, my Grandpa was the coach ("get your butt down!" I can hear him say) I was getting really good at the sport after the timing of hitting the ball just clicked and I was moved up from the bottom of the line-up to the 4th batter.....the clean-up batter! I learned how to field at 3rd base and throw someone out. But I actually loved it when I moved to catcher when we moved up to fastpitch at around 11/12 years old. My cousin would strike someone out and I would taunt the batter or throw someone out when they tried to steal. We were quite the duo!

A few days or so prior to one of my games, when my Mom came home out-of-the-blue, I was so happy....my Mom was going to come and watch me play ball. I believe she was there, came with us to the game, and then she left. From what I remember if my memory serves me right, she didn't come back. Why? Well, she was picked up by the police. I think she went to the gas station (to me it was a pretty long walk) to get a soda or something and never came back. If I remember correctly, I think the police came to the game and let my Grandpa know (quietly) that she was picked up. My Grandpa and Grandma really didn't say anything during the game or after the game. I am assuming they didn't want to ruin my game? The good thing is the police knew my grandparents and I am so happy they didn't bring her back to the fields. Can you imagine how embarrassing that would have been to me? At that age? And in the small town, I lived in? Everyone would know. What she did to get picked up in such a short amount of time? Your guess is as good as mine.  The ironic thing about this is I played softball for FOP (Fraternal Order of Police)

About a week later I think she was bailed out of jail. I don't know who went and picked her up. And really, I don't know where she went after bail was made. But she didn't come back to the house as far as I can remember. She would just leave just as fast as she came in. Poof! Just like that she is gone. About a week or so later she would call from Phoenix or California. "Hi Baby Girl!"

I don't know exactly how much money my Grandparents spent over the years getting her out of jail. I do know they probably spent a pretty penny on her though. I do know, it was money we just didn't have.

Some Things You Don't Forget

 

   

A couple of months ago my husband said to me, "You share a lot of memories of your Grandpa but never really tell me stories of you Grandma."  It made me think to myself for a minute about why I really didn't bring up stories of my Grandma.  It may be because she is still with us and because he passed it makes me remember the good times I had with him.  I am not sure which of the two brings my memories up.  A lot of things remind me of him every day.

      My Grandpa was tall and skinny, he had completely white hair with a white handlebar mustache, both had a tint of yellow due to smoking.  He had sky blue eyes, my brother may have gotten his eyes from him.   At least that is what I like to think.  He had a big nose with a pretty big hook to it and big ears.  He always had darker arms, face, and neck, almost with a red hue.  My grandpa had false teeth on the top and only three of his own teeth left on the bottom.  He said he didn't want to wear his teeth on the bottom because they hurt too much.  I only have seen my Grandpa crack a smile a couple of times while growing up.  He did look mean. He would be cordial to people but never go out of his way to say hello to anyone.  But to me, he was a good man. He was the best man, and only Father I knew.

     What people didn't know was behind the rough exterior he was a very kind man that got a kick out of goofy things and didn't mind having me around. I think my Grandpa kept an eye on me and made sure I was going to turn out "OK" because I looked just like my Mom and to my Grandpa, her daughter was going to make it.  That is what I believe anyway.

     I would tag around outside with my Grandpa when I was done with doing my chores in the house on the weekends and most of the summer if I was not playing in the river, fishing, climbing trees, or playing with the kids across the road or my friend Kristy who lived about a mile away.  I would play out in the by the barn and sometimes during the fall, I would help stack wood.  My Grandpa would have me hold out my arms and he would stack some wood in my arms.  He would remind me of the "right way" of stacking wood.

     My Grandpa was a minor league baseball player in Alpena when they had a  minor league team.  He was left-handed, batted right-handed, and played first base.  He loved baseball, he loved watching baseball even when the Tigers couldn't get a hit. 

     When you take a man that knew baseball inside and out and give him all girls and one granddaughter, he didn't have a boy who played baseball so when he heard my uncle was going to coach a Boys & Girls softball team he signed me up!  I remember waiting in line at the boys and girls club to sign up.  I had never been to the club before.  I remember (and still have) my first glove.  I can't remember how it was bought.  Either he bought it and brought it home to me, or we went together.  I do remember it was too big and he said, it is OK, it will last you.  I remember us being at home, and he had the glove and told me to go get the vaseline. We had to lube up the glove and put the ball in the pocket.  He tied a string around the glove with the ball in the pocket and I had to sleep on top of it under my mattress.  I had to check on the glove, re-lube the glove, and then turn it inside out and sleep on it that way also.  It had to be "nice and soft" 

     I still have that glove and have played with it last season when someone needed a glove.  Still works as well as it did 38/39years ago.

Black Widow

          I don't remember too much about when my Mom came home or came back to Michigan to find another man and get pregnant.  Yes, there are a total of five of us who were birthed by my Mom.  Steve is the oldest born in 1973, me 1974, Armando I believe 1978 or 79, Tessie 1981 and Sadie 1983.  I had photos of Armando and me when he was a baby.

(Armando and I)

  I don't remember him being born, though.

     Tessie was born in Arizona, so I never got to be around her when she was born.  I was there when Sadie was born.  She was born in Alpena, and I was able to hold her.  I believe the only births my Grandparents were around to see were Steve and Sadie. 
 
   
Steve's Dad was Steve.  Steve died in 1998 by flipping his Camero.  From what I understand, he fell asleep at the wheel.  They say he had narcolepsy.

Steve with his Dad, my Mom and Me

Armando's Dad died from an overdose.  I don't know what year it was killed. I think the culprit was heroin. Tessie and Sadie's Dad was Ted. Ted died from a motorcycle crash.  I don't know for sure what year.   My Dad is unknown, and my Mom won't tell me who it is.  It is accurate, my Mom is a black widow.

  We were all raised by different people.  Not together.  As I noted in a separate post, Steve and I would see each other the most.  Steve and his step Mom Jayne raised Steve.  I was raised and then adopted by my Grandparents on my Mom's side.  Armando's Dad raised Armando until he died when Armando was either 14 or 16, and his Aunt finished raising him.  Grandma Sarah raised Tessie and Sadie on their Dad's side. He died when they were tiny.

Every.Single.Time.

As I have said in previous posts, the true memories of my Mom coming in and out of my life started when I was around 8 or 9 years old.  I am not really certain about the order my memories happened during these pop-up visits that happened.

I do remember a few different guys coming home with her when she visited and the arguments that would happen when my Mom would call and tell my Grandparents that she wanted to come home.  She would ask if my Grandpa could come and pick her up from here or there.

I remember a time when she called stating she was this place or that, please come and pick me up. Grandma would say "Jim, don't go, you don't know who she has with her" "you don't know if the person she has with her will stab you or something".  My Grandpa did care though.  He would say "well, someone has to do it" "Someone has to pick her up".  Everyone would stay up for hours waiting for him to come back home.  He drove a blue Chevy truck to go and pick up my Mom and whatever friend she decided to bring home during the visits.  My Grandpa loved my Mom very much and would do whatever he could to bring her home. Every. Single. Time.

My grandparents owned a camper that would be put on the back of the truck bed when we would go on camping trips.  One time when she came home with a male friend my Mom and her boyfriend were allowed to stay in the camper to sleep.  As I have stated previously, I wanted so badly to be around my Mom and right by her side every second of every day while she was visiting that I begged if I could sleep in the camper with them.  I showed them how to make the beds in the camper (folding down the couch etc.).  She let me stay with them for a night.  Did I tell you that my Mom was not considerate and she would do absolutely anything a man wanted to keep that man?  She was addicted to them almost as much as she was addicted to drugs.

Well, that night after I begged to sleep with them in the camper, we all went to sleep.  They took the bunk area of the camper, you know the little itty bitty 1-2 foot space that would sit on top of the truck roof when on the truck?  I took the couch/bed underneath of them to sleep. However, that night again not thinking of her kid, my Mom and her boyfriend had sex above me.  Not considering that I was below them.  I think I was 8 or maybe 9 during that visit. 

I don't know when she left, or how she left.  I know that she would only stay for a little period with every visit and leave just as quickly as she came.  And I would hear my Grandpa in his "office" (bathroom) crying. Every. Single. Time.

Steve

Sometimes when I am either traveling along my morning commute or if I am walking down the street to and from work, I may see someone who reminds me of my older brother Steve.  It usually is someone's blue eyes and dirty blond hair that makes me take a second look wondering if this man is him or not.

I do feel as though I would recognize him, though if it was him.  But sometimes I think to myself, "Would I know if it was him if I bumped into him?".

Steve has sky blue eyes and a relaxed stare that could draw anyone in.  My earliest memories with Steve is when he would come to our house to visit during the summer or over a weekend.  I think I was around eight or nine years old when he first started coming around again.  He would be dropped off, but I am not sure who dropped him off.  I don't have a clear recollection of my so-called father dropping him off.  However, I had the fondest memories when he was around.  When we were young, I always felt as though I needed to hug him or touch him.  I am not sure if it was a need I had that when I touched him or was fulfilling a missing part of me?  Or was it because he was my brother and it was extraordinary when he visited.

Probably 75' or 76'

My Grandpa just loved it when Steve would come to visit.

My Grandpa and Steve

  My Grandparents had four girls and then raised me, so when Steve came to visit, it was indeed a treat for him.  I think Steve also enjoyed visiting because we lived in the country with 5 acres of land surrounded by woods.  Steve grew up in the city.   I think he enjoyed being able to run around, be surrounded by the cows and chickens, and then go across the street to the river to play in the river.

I am not sure how or who made plans for him to come around and visit.  He did visit probably once a year until I was old enough to graduate.  It was hard to talk to him in-between the summers.  Steve was never good at communication.  By that, I mean, he rarely called to see how we were doing.  Steve has never grown out of that problem he has with communication.  He just came and went whenever he pleased.  It was always a surprise when we got the phone call that he was coming to visit. 

Love's Baby Soft

          After my Mom left me, I have a few scattered memories of me being with her in her house or apartment here and there during my young years.  I don't know if the memories were during certain weekends when I went and visited her or what happened. I am not sure if I went and lived with her for a certain time or what.

      I do know that my Mom came and often went throughout my childhood.  A lot of those times she would come and go when I was really small was when the location was "down below" (south of Alpena).  My Mom would either be in Lansing or Jackson.  However, sometimes she would take off to Phoenix or sometimes California.

     Some of the earliest memories that I have with my Mom are in her apartment; I think it was in Lansing.  I believe I was around 3 or 4 years old.  I remember when I used to climb up on the counters and get the parmesan cheese out of the cabinets  (I still love parmesan cheese).  I also remember when my Mom was taking a bubble bath, and she called me into the bathroom for some odd reason.  She called me Baby Girl.  I can still hear her voice.  I do remember her smell.  Her smell was unique.  She wore baby-soft roll-on perfume and smoked Kool menthol light cigarettes.

  To this day, I may catch a scent that will make me turn my head to see if my Mom is walking around the corner.  I also do remember my younger brother Armando being brought home.  Either I remember it, or it was a photo that made me think I remembered it.

     I do remember the phone calls each Christmas.  My Mom would call each Christmas Eve.  All of my Aunts and Grandparents would be on pins and needles because Susie was going to call.  The first complaint was because she would be calling collect. The next would be, "Why does she need to do this every year! Susie always has to ruin Christmas".  This is what I heard my Aunts say about my Mom every year.  I guess they forgot all about Susie's daughter hearing each and every word that was being said about my Mom.  Of course, they didn't think about how it would make me feel.  You see, I wanted nothing more than to hear my Mom.  I wanted to listen to her voice.  When I was young, I didn't want anything more to listen to my Mom's scratchy, horse, whiny but cool, voice say "Hey babygirl." 

Where did Susie go?

      Well, as you know, my Mom was a child of the '60s and '70s.  I guess.  No, I know she was a child of the hippie era.  Even up to the last time I spoke to her about 12 or 13 years ago (I think Anthony was in the 5th grade), she had a raspy voice and talked with singing-like sentences.  You know those people who stretch out their words when they speak, almost like they are whining but not whining.

     Anyhoo, of course, I don't remember what happened during their short-term marriage.  Don't know if there was a lot of fighting, who the guilty person was, or why they ended up divorced.  I think the marriage lasted for maybe two years. It is funny because my Mom never spoke ill of Steven.  In fact, she never spoke ill of any of the men that she had kids with.  I think it may have been due to her being in the wrong.  She probably knew whatever happened to end any of the relationships was due to something she did. 

   Now, from what I am told, my brother Steve went with his father Steven, and I went with my Mom.  I wasn't with my Mom for too long before she felt as though she couldn't take care of me.  She felt as though leaving me at a church with a coloring book was the best route for leaving me.  I do have to give her kudos for that departure though.  I should feel "blessed" literally, for being left on a church pew with a coloring book at two years old.  And I am happy that she had enough knowledge to let the pastor know I was there. I was left sitting on the pew in a dirty wet diaper coloring. 
 
 My Grandparents got a phone call from the pastor to come and pick me up.  I don't know the entire story behind how the Pastor knew who to call. And there you have it, this is how I ended up with my Grandparents.  I think they did have to go to court for custody, and Steven (my so-called Father) told the court that I was not his child.  Thank God for my Grandparents choosing to pick me up.  I am not sure where I would have been if they didn't. 

   Where did Susie go?  Why did she leave her child? 

Teenage years

     Susie must have taken the wrong turn when getting into high school.  Maybe she fell in with the wrong crowd, perhaps she was rebelling, or maybe she found the crazy boy in school that led her down the wrong path.  And everyone knows that young love feeling.  A young person with a longing for some attention can find it in a guy who may not be right for her.  My Mom was a beautiful young lady.  I have seen some of her photos; whether she had short hair or long hair, she was always so beautiful.

     That beautiful young lady with maybe a fault of her insecurities of no longer being the "baby" of the family and the injury of her back fell in love (whatever that could be when you are a teenager) with a guy named Steve.  Not sure if this guy was a rebel, a jock, a nerd, or what.  I do know that he came from a strict catholic household that was located directly across the street from the high school.  And his family was not so bad off.  From what I am told, he loved his cars, and I think he probably had a sports car when he and my Mom were together.  My Mom said to me after Steve died due to falling asleep at the wheel of his Camero, she knew Steve would end up killing himself in the car because he always put a car before anything. 
 
 Moving on....my brother Steve was born in 1973 in Alpena, MI.  My Mom was 16, soon to be 17.  She was removed during her junior year in school due to this act being an embarrassment to the family.  And of course, graduating was not an option because Steve had to do the right thing and marry this girl and start a family.   A year later, I was born. 

    I was born in Jackson.  I am not sure why they moved to Jackson or somewhere around Jackson to live.  I am assuming it is obvious...Steve needed a job.  This is where things get a little tricky with me being born.  Steve said I was not his child after they were divorced, and he didn't want anything to do with me.  And from what I am told and have heard over and over and over again, "you are a little Mexican". 

    Now that I am grown, I have had a DNA test done, and some random person popped up as either an aunt or half-sister.  So, there you go....yep, not Steve's kid.

Susie, the problem child

          Susie was born on July 23, 1955, or 56.   She was number 3 out of 4 girls in the family.  I am not sure about her childhood.  I don't know how she was treated. I don't know if she had a problem learning, or if she was a problematic child while in elementary school.

     There were several different stories I heard about when, where, why, and how my Mom became the "bad" child.  Nowadays, social workers and educators have names or titles for the child that my Mom was.  Maybe she had a psychological problem that wasn't determined because, during that era,  problem children like my Mom was hidden away.  It was embarrassing to have a child in a family who behaved or portrayed themselves like this. Like Susie did.  It was not spoken about.  Especially in a small city that I came from.

     From what I have heard over the years is Susie went bad after Angie was born, there was such a long time between both of them.  I guess there are 11 years between my Mom being born and my Aunt Angie being born.  After Angie being born is when Susie started acting out.  And then I heard she was in gymnastics and she broke her back, the doctors gave her meds, and she couldn't get off of them. (I cannot give you the exact quotes, that is why I italicized.)  Such things were repeated time and time over the years.

    I guess maybe when a person who may be born with a certain chemical imbalance it is possible that the combination of both a new child being born after being the "baby" of the family for a long time and having all the attention being taken away when a new baby is born plus enduring injury while performing a certain sport could make a person's chemical imbalance come to light.

     I was not there. I don't know the truth about what happened to Susie to make to the person s
she became.  However, throughout my childhood and after I was constantly reminded about Susie.  How "you are just like your Mother."  "You are just like Susie."  "She looks just like Susie." "You are going to turn out just like your Mother."  "Susie always ruins everything."

Christmas 2019

     While visiting, my Grandma says over and over "little Bridget Pahlkotter from the Bolton Rd."  She grunts and shakes her head back and forth.  Today when I went for my morning walk, all emotions took over.  Why is she so stumped about how I became the lady I am?  How did I get to where I am at?  How did I get the job that I have?  How was I able to get the house that I have?  I had to get it off my chest, why does she or why did she have such doubt about the type of person I was going to grow into? What did I do when I was young to make people think that I would not amount to anything when I became an adult?

     A couple of months ago my Grandma who is 89 years old said to me over the phone, "Bridget I want to come to California for Christmas.".  OK!  Whatever Grandma wants Grandma gets.  Because her hometown is in Timbuktu Michigan, there are only a few flights to and from her hometown.  The next best airport is around a 5-hour drive to and from.  At her age, she cannot drive that far so I purchased the tickets (after she was for sure going to come).

     When she is here and when I am around her, a lot of memories pop up.  Some not-so-good memories. Usually, the memories are based on how I was treated when I was growing up and of course my Mom.
   
 
  The next thing I thought while on my walk was, "Should I bring up my feelings to her?  She is here for Christmas and I don't want to make any waves with her visit plus she is 89, do I want to make her upset?"  But when I got back I did ask the question.  "Grandma, why do you keep on asking the question?  Why did you doubt what type of lady I would turn into?"  She just looked at me and said: "I didn't doubt you I am just surprised."  And then I cannot remember what came after that.  And then I went into how I felt like I was never a part of the family and how everyone just knew me as "Susie's Daughter".