Skeletons (by Jenn)

November is a month that is historically hard for me. My Grandfather died in November 19 years ago, my grandparent’s anniversary was in November, and I also spent a lot of time with them during November because it’s deer hunting season.

I don’t have a lot of clear memories surrounding the death of my Grandfather. I was 10, and there was a lot of hushed talking, unanswered questions, and I wasn’t allowed to see him in the hospital.

I don’t remember how I found out, but eventually I learned that my Grandfather was an alcoholic and he died from complications related to that.

My Grandmother didn’t like to talk about it, and didn’t want anyone to know because it was a “family” thing. It was a skeleton in our closet.

I don’t know my Grandfather as an alcoholic, because for most of my life he was not actively drinking. After the death of two of his children, I believe he started drinking again. The details for the most part, are unknown to me. I was a child at the time, and I didn’t need to know. I do know that his drinking affected my Mom, and I’m sure his whole family. Although she does not talk badly of him, I know there are reasons that she left her home 2.2 seconds after graduating high school and didn’t look back.

I believe that some issues were resolved when she was an adult, and I do know one of the reasons he quit drinking was because my Mom would not allow him to take my brother in his car because he had been drinking. He stopped by the time that I was born. But, I know there is a lot of hurt within the family that was never resolved because it wasn’t to be talked about or acknowledged as a problem. And then? My two uncles and both grandparents died without resolution. My Mom and her younger brother even now have different perspectives about what happened in their family.

I’m sure that all families have skeletons buried in their family closets. Things that aren’t talked about, that there is a common understanding of silence around. I hope, as we figure out how to have a family of our own, that when the time is right, we can be honest with our children. Encourage them to ask questions, and be able to have (honest, age appropritate) answers. Because kids understand way more than we give them credit for.

And my Grandfather? He was a flawed man (who isn’t?) But he was also a wonderful man. He had a contagious laugh, a mischievous grin, a sarcastic sense of humor, a kind heart, and he could make a mean pancake. I am lucky that I can remember him most this way, even though I now know what the hushed conversations were all about.

How about you, are there skeletons in your family closet?