Lazy Day
Goodnight Grandad,
I have have no idea of the sort of man you really were. After the initial glimpses and sense of journeys with you I have questioned again my assumption of you as a cult member. You used to talk about my Gran in a sad way. There was things you wanted to do but couldn't because she wouldn't allow it. You wanted me to not have to worry about getting my dress dirty, you ignored the signs and my rigid following of signs by swinging high in the play park. I was terrified when a women calm walking. I thought she might be undercover police, she was a friend of yours u chatted for a while. You seemed really happy that day. You hated my laziness but I was so drained the older I got and couldn't sleep well even when left alone. Your role in it all? You've got me there I have no idea. There a fantasy, there always is. A need of mine being accepted over the phone, the right words at the right time. My oldest sister teaching me how to replace hell with something less unpleasant.
'Just imagine what you would need to feel better and pretend that its happening. But I watched and told her after she told me that what she wanted right was her Grandad to phone and tell her everything was going to be okay that it wasn't just a dream. She had put her head down to flicker the phone had rung and she had definitely answered it and spoken to someone she called 'Grandad'. It didn't work as well when I tried. He didn't sound anything like Grandad who it was very hard to have a conversation with anyway because he was so quiet. Even if it was Grandad and he wasn't a sicko, things were definitely not going to be okay. She said that if someone so good could love us that much then none of it matter. I doubted that very much but it was natural for me not to be very family minded. I was being told they weren't my real family, I still hope there is no DNA match. That the same blood that ran in people veins was said to be so important when it was treated so carelessly; Splashed, spilt and thrown around, poisoned and contaminated confused me. The day after your funeral I used your old shears to tidy up the hedge around your daughter's garden until my hands shook and ached.
And ***
31 years of Scottish eating and drinking habits caught up with you suddenly when you pushed your weakened heart into marathon training. Take change slowly when possible, I would of told you this if we still talked. Your love for me took you again and again to places you were not built to manage like I was. You have a family that got involved with you, knew you. But we were teenagers surrounded by extreme sexual disinhibtiion and torture. It was bound to happen sometime. Afterwards I hated you like all the other rapists and you loved me as wonderful husband would. The tears, the hitting out and the shame passed when we toasted our Gran's liberation from mental and physical decay. Your sister smiled at me and I hugged her after cremating you much like we did then. I remember helping your dad to garden and talking to him, his hug during the line up was the realist thing I have felt in a long time.
My green lanky bairn and half of her sister,
My love. You make music like music and living and art. Our bond is maternal.
I have have no idea of the sort of man you really were. After the initial glimpses and sense of journeys with you I have questioned again my assumption of you as a cult member. You used to talk about my Gran in a sad way. There was things you wanted to do but couldn't because she wouldn't allow it. You wanted me to not have to worry about getting my dress dirty, you ignored the signs and my rigid following of signs by swinging high in the play park. I was terrified when a women calm walking. I thought she might be undercover police, she was a friend of yours u chatted for a while. You seemed really happy that day. You hated my laziness but I was so drained the older I got and couldn't sleep well even when left alone. Your role in it all? You've got me there I have no idea. There a fantasy, there always is. A need of mine being accepted over the phone, the right words at the right time. My oldest sister teaching me how to replace hell with something less unpleasant.
'Just imagine what you would need to feel better and pretend that its happening. But I watched and told her after she told me that what she wanted right was her Grandad to phone and tell her everything was going to be okay that it wasn't just a dream. She had put her head down to flicker the phone had rung and she had definitely answered it and spoken to someone she called 'Grandad'. It didn't work as well when I tried. He didn't sound anything like Grandad who it was very hard to have a conversation with anyway because he was so quiet. Even if it was Grandad and he wasn't a sicko, things were definitely not going to be okay. She said that if someone so good could love us that much then none of it matter. I doubted that very much but it was natural for me not to be very family minded. I was being told they weren't my real family, I still hope there is no DNA match. That the same blood that ran in people veins was said to be so important when it was treated so carelessly; Splashed, spilt and thrown around, poisoned and contaminated confused me. The day after your funeral I used your old shears to tidy up the hedge around your daughter's garden until my hands shook and ached.
And ***
31 years of Scottish eating and drinking habits caught up with you suddenly when you pushed your weakened heart into marathon training. Take change slowly when possible, I would of told you this if we still talked. Your love for me took you again and again to places you were not built to manage like I was. You have a family that got involved with you, knew you. But we were teenagers surrounded by extreme sexual disinhibtiion and torture. It was bound to happen sometime. Afterwards I hated you like all the other rapists and you loved me as wonderful husband would. The tears, the hitting out and the shame passed when we toasted our Gran's liberation from mental and physical decay. Your sister smiled at me and I hugged her after cremating you much like we did then. I remember helping your dad to garden and talking to him, his hug during the line up was the realist thing I have felt in a long time.
My green lanky bairn and half of her sister,
My love. You make music like music and living and art. Our bond is maternal.
