My grandmother is nearly 95. She is getting more and more confused with her letters, which is to be expected. Yet, the parts of her letters which are not confused indicate all that she has left in her mind – and that is fear and limitation.
I try to let her know what’s going on in my life. My novels, my art, my quest for a fitter body. She’s proud of me, and yet every time she says that she also suggests i do less. I say I take a walk every day. She says maybe I should make it shorter. I say I’m doing art every day for Inktober. She says maybe I should do some art and leave it for the rest day if I can’t finish.
It’s maddening! This poor woman has spent her whole life lying to herself, praying for forgiveness, pinning her hopes on things she can’t control, giving up her self control and her power, all while trying to control others with passive aggressiveness.
I don’t want to be told to do less, to pace myself, that it’s okay if I don’t finish today. That’s what held me down and that’s what I’m setting myself free of. I don’t want to be held down anymore. I want to fly.
If by some miracle, despite all lack of medical care, I were to reach the ripe old age of 95 – and I were also to have a younger woman I called granddaughter – I would want to tell her “you go! Do your best! I’m proud of you! Fly high!”