levertovfan | (no subject)

I recieved a request for two more professor reviews from Carleton yesterday. They're sitting on my desk staring at me. Last night I went through my transcript and confirmed that I will now have written reviews for every non-tenured professor I've ever had who intended to continue teaching at Carleton, with the exception of my statistics prof.

The big thing going on in my life right now is the my maternal grandfather is dying. All four of my grandparents, ages 92-81, have remained alive a long time, so I always knew this was coming. It's odd: Matt P's grandfather died, I just learned on Tuesday that Erica's grandmother, her last remaining grandparent, died. By then, Grandpa was already dying, although I didn't know it. Deaths are supposed to happen in threes.

My mother was down in San Diego dealing with the hospital for him last weekend as he was about to go into surgery. They had a fight, as always, because mom treated Grandmother to something(a meal or shopping), so mom left earlier than she had planned. On Monday mom got a call from his doctor, but she didn't realize the severity until she talked to her sisters. She finally left to go back down to San Diego Wednesday night. She called me from the Oakland airport to let me know, but in spite of the message I left, she hasn't called me back yet. There is a lot for mom to deal with in San Diego: Grandpa, no doubt ordering her around, Grandma, who has Alzheimer's and may or may not be aware of what's happening, her sisters, being pissy and fussy as ever, and her own temper, which is substantial and very easily triggered (in my view, justifiably so) by her family.

His death really only effects me insofar as it effects mom. He pretty obviously only wants his daughters there when he dies. Most of his long-term friends are now dead. My mother was amazed when she realized that her mother actually enjoys the company of her daughters because her father never asks for it unless there is something they can do for him. A while ago, after a visit, Grandpa told mom that my presence was not necessary on her trips down. Mom brought me last Thanksgiving, to see if that rule had changed, and Grandpa paid me a huge insult (in the language he uses to communicate: money) by not paying for my plane fare.

He never was interested in being close to anyone, his grandchildren included. It was devestating to watch my cousin Alicia try to get into his good graces, to be loved by him the same way she's loved by her father's family. Grandpa might have enjoyed having a particularly smart boy he could guide into business. Instead, he had three daughters, and of his five grandchildren, only one was a boy, who turned out to be lazy. He was more interested in his sons-in-law then his children. Several of his female descendents are very bright, but for Grandpa that's only cause to wish they had been male. Grandpa only had a third child because he wanted a boy, and then spent mom's childhood lamenting that his smartest and most rebellious (read: masculine-tempered) child should have been male. No wonder my mother has problems.

When I next talk to mom, I'll offer to go home and spend time with her once this ordeal is over with. Grandpa specified in his will that neither he nor Grandma are to get a funeral, memorial service, or gathering of any kind because it will waste money. As mom points out, it's selfish of him because funerals don't serve the need of the dead: they serve the needs of the living. In any case, it means I won't have to go to San Diego and deal with the family myself. My father is going to be away a lot this month, at music camp and in NYC for a series of conferences, so I won't have him for an oasis of sanity if I go home, but if I extend the visit I should at least be able to see him before he leaves for China, where he's spending fall semester.

I needed some form of catharsis, so I watched "Little Women" this morning-- one of the glories of living alone is that if I want to watch movies at 7 in the morning I can. I cried not only when Beth died, but also when Mr. Lawrence gave Beth the piano, and at the end. I plan to go borrow the book from the library today.

ADDENDUM TO ALL THAT- My mother just called. It turns out the, er, critical piece of stuff that was blocking my grandfather's arteries was cholesteral build-up, not bowel. He's not, as it turns out, likely to die just yet. Now I feel foolish for writing that whole thing.