Saturday, October 21, 2006

Sympathy for the She-Devil

Last Monday I received a call from my older brother. " Hey Sis, are you sitting down?" It makes me crazy when he starts a conversation that way. What follows is never good. I held my breathe and asked " Are there any accidents, pregnancies and/or dead bodies?" We are the sandwich generation. Harsh but fair questions. No, he assured me. But if you are not sitting down, you better.

I love my brother, but he can be sooo slow getting to a point. "Well?" I said trying not to be short with him. "Pop Pop left Grammy on Saturday. "Are you kidding me?" I couldn't contain my laughter. Pop Pop and Grammy are his in-laws.

I have known this pair for about 20 years. Grammy is bar none the nastiest person on the planet. Think about this for a second. I have worked in the insurance industry for 20 years and this in meanest person that I have EVER encountered. She reminded me of Roseanne Barr's TV character at her worst. My daddy once said " She will never die because God doesn't want her messin' up his Heaven."

From my encounters with Pop Pop he is a soft-spoken, loyal Eagles fan with a off beat sense of humor. My brother's children absolutely adore him. Behind closed doors he could be different. But, I doubt it.

Pop Pop and Grammy have been married for 56 years. It is my understanding that Grammy never had to work outside of the home. While they lived modestly, Grammy never wanted for anything.

As with most break ups it is usually what is perceived to most, a minor event that pushes a person into action. But, that event is the final straw. Pop Pop's straw came in the forms of dishes.

Pop Pop did not "do the dishes" to the satisfaction of Grammy. She felt compelled to bitch about it for two hours. Two flippin' hours. WTF?! I guess something snapped. He started packing his suitcase. He called a mutual friend and confided his woes. She said " Big Daddy, you've been putting up with her crap for too long, bring it."

Everyone was stunned. It did not stop the toxic waste that flowed from Grammy's mouth." You're children and grandbabies will never speak to you again," she screamed as he shuffled toward the door.

He called my brother from his new home. I am not sure of what the final chapter of this story will bring. If Pop Pop's new living arrangements bring him joy good for him. Life it too short to be miserable. He served his time in Hell.

Pop Pop is a diabetic. He told my brother that he was going to visit his doctor to get some of those little blue pills. I surmised that for the first time in a long time Pop Pop wants the intimacy that comes from sex. My brother's interpretation was a little different and probably more accurate. Hooray for him. Something we all can aspire to at 78. I think he will be ok. (I confess that chatting about these folks taking a tumble was a little disturbing.)

My brother is worried about his wife's reaction to this recent turn of events. She is upset. They are her parents. His kids wondered why it took so long.

However, after the amusement and sheer audacity of the event died down, I felt a sadness. A sadness for a human being to have lived for over seventy years and created a dynamic that has left her alone. I am sure there is more to her than I have been privy to.

My prayer for Grammy is that her heart softens and her tongue is less toxic. I hope that she finds if not joy, peace.

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