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therevolutionwillnot · 5 years

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She Can Fly (a ranty ode to my grandma)

Grandma used to tell me when I was little, I’d take a sheet and run around the house singing, I Believe I Can Fly. I can see the movie version of myself, hair in braids, shoes off, grandma saying “Hohoooo-bapreeee.” Run to one corner “I believe I can touch the skyyy” Run to another corner “Think about it every night and dayyyy” Flying across the rooms, wings flapping “Spread my wings and fly awaaay” I run through that open door, arms flailing drastically the beat beating through my chest as it repeats until the crescendo, “I believe I can flllyyyyyy!” Fast forward and rewind a few hours backwards, Dadu is yelling at grandma. Somewhere in my head his Hindi is slapping the walls and he is the large frame of a giant who squishes my grandma into the mouse form she feels majority of the time around him. I think he slapped her at one point, but all of that is lost or fuzzy in where we don’t like to remember. This woman. This woman who raised my uncle, aunt and dad. This woman… Would say to me “Mimi do you remember the garden. You would said my garten- these are my toe-mayy-toes.” There would be a laugh in her voice, as if she could see the sun shining on my little authoritative face claiming “This is my land” in tiny toddle voice. She liked the Animal Planet Channel, America’s Funniest Home Videos (animals over humans definitely) and soap operas. All the face slapping, facial expressions, dramatic music, my grandma’s reaction. “Oh myyyyyyy.” It was the animals and videos that were the best in my book. Some baby, child thing or animal would do something irreversibly stupid, clumsy and all at the same time adorable. She would laugh. “Oh hohohohohoo oh my.” Her laughter made me laugh, I loved to watch her sit in her plastic cheap looking dollar store chair and smile. And laugh. I think those were our moments. I didn’t realize this, but she raised me. For a long time she was there and I can’t remember most of it. I don’t know those times that my cheeks must’ve ruined the tectonic equilibrium as her face would peer into mine, searching for the many ways to make those cheeks burst even more with smiles. The times we must’ve had each other best. I will not know those. We were learning about human biology, I read the passage, I got all the information-We essentially come from monkeys...or monkey-like things, my brain said. I know things, I’m twelve. What in me decided to have this conversation with my dad? What sparked this ignorance to state boldly, “Dad we come from monkeys.” Immediate downfall, the bible was talked at and thrusted into my hands. “Are you telling me your grandma comes from monkeys?” I can’t answer with a straight face, because it’s all over. The world is ending. Quietly I say, “Yes. We all do.” More fireballs thrown until our words are pure flames. My grandma is praying in the corner, I’m crying. And realized I didn’t want this. I didn’t to see her like this-don’t care about him, he’ll always be this way, but grandma. I made a day in hell for you and I’m sorry. I told her I didn’t care if he lived, one day. We were on the phone. But he was getting sick. He’s always getting sicker. She said he’s in a bad way. I propose the idea that maybe he is, and maybe we should be ready for that...and in a small voice I tell her I don’t care. She was immediately offended that I would ever say anything like that, he was your son. I know that hurt you. I never should have said that out loud to you. She reminds me of the Glass Menagerie-that fucking story always pisses me off (but you are so fragile). She would think so little of herself (you didn’t like new clothes, in fact I have some of them). I tell this story to kids I work with all the time- it’s my favorite to tell and of course I change it up a little more every time. He was outside making chicken, red, so deliciously red but it was always smokey and filled with mosquitoes. You were inside making potatoes. Sometimes you sat on the floor and chopped on this big wooden heavy chopping board with this knife that looked like a mini machete perfect for your everyday brown toddler. I asked if I could help around, you stirring, he’s flipping and drinking. You both say no. So apparently my tiny self managed to drag a sack of potatoes to the bathroom. Plop them in one by one...to which one of you noticed. The door creaks open slowly, assuming it’s just a little girl taking a large deuce (it runs in our family seriously tho), but to her surprise...her granddaughter is smushing potatoes into the toilet. I can imagine what you sounded like “Oriiiiiiii bapreee!!!!” And apparently my father walked in- this guy who loves Beevus and Butthead with the comedic level of a 15 year old boy in the 90s...yeah he laughed his ass off. Secretly struggling with the idea of how to unclog the toilet. You guys loved to tell that story and I always loved hearing it. It was during a time you were happy with him...but we both know how temporary that was. We would go on walks, I’m in middle school...I’m a teenager and you disclose to me how scared you are of him. I’ve heard him yell at you or flex in frustration. We have both seen in this in men, too many times. It’s as if Dadu just couldn’t rest and had to reincarnate himself in your son. 12 pack of beer, everytime we hung out sometimes a 20 pack. Budlight or Budweiser mostly. Every. Night. You told me he did ether one night and died. Granted he was younger...but you’d been carrying his booze problem since. It was you. Alone. With him. And when I called sometimes our secret code language of his angry presence was enough that I would get on the phone with him, make him laugh, something. Just to ease your space. But you called me one day...it had gone too far. He had alcohol poisoning and my brother was there. He had to call 911. He was crying and alone with you and him and...I wasn’t there. To help, to take over, to handle the crisis. I was so young to hear about his abuse to you. I asked my mom what if we moved you...I knew she never would. But I really wanted you gone from him. I wanted to take care of you. I wanted to know you were safe and happy. I hurt you when I didn’t call or visit. I don’t know why I didn’t, but I do, I was too lazy, I was living my life, I was like my mother. She did that to you too. I learned this from her, I take full responsibility for not seeing you, I did not see you when you were here last. I didn’t tell you the truth. Me and Al aren’t together and whe I have a kid I will most likely not be in a marriage but I’ll be happy. Because I can stop this curse of misery and pain. If I am here for anything I am here for that. You gave me love-you showed me what love looks like and that is all I can give back. We all deserve love, hurt, broken, in pieces, in full glasses of water. I’m sorry if I didn’t give it back to you. But please always know that I love you. You met Al. You said his name funny. But it was cute. I knew he wasn’t the one but I never brought a guy to meet you and you deserved to meet someone. He was my first long term relationship. I didn’t love him, but liked him a lot. I think you could tell. I think you liked watching me with a guy. You kept asking when I’d get married and start having kids. You really wanted grandkids, that’s when the very elongated “Graaanddmmaa” would creep a smile around my mouth. It was just cute that you started doing that when I was getting older. You died on the night I was out dancing on a date. It was a really nice date and I don’t know if you said this to me, but I believe you did, you told me, “You love.” And that feeling I’d always dreamed of, dancing with someone where the energy and connection are caught together to hold up the mast to swing in the storm of sound waves. There it was. That feeling. The next morning Felicia texted me. I was on the toilet. I had a great night and a great morning. I knew her text was bad. It was in my gut but I hoped...and then I read it. And I cried so hard muffling the choking sounds shoving my hands over my mouth trying to keep everything from falling apart. You were just gone...I know that’s cliche. But that was it. No will. No letter. No words left for me or anyone. You didn’t exist, you weren’t coming back. And I didn’t say anything to you, I didn’t say any of these things to you because I let him take you and our family didn’t have words for you. They held nothing in your name, no funeral or church event. I didn’t fight for you because I thought I was too small. I should’ve fought for you because no one else did. I was strong enough for you, I was strong enough to fight them off to let them know that you mattered, that you gave me strength and inspiration in this world to fight for my existence. I never told you that I wrote a paper about you for my English class in high school. A very influential teacher, this old white dude read my words about you. Just you and your superhuman ability to survive this world and still have room to smile and laugh. The hug you gave me more which was always more than three times when we would say goodbye. I loved saying goodbye to you. He left me a message, that I was a very talented writer and should follow this road, this path… I never told you, that you gave me that moment, I was proud to exist to feel purposeful in this world. I wrote about the smell of turmeric, onion, curry, garlic in your salwar, the Amla you combed through your hair and always braided. The way you said, “Ow.” and made such a painful yet comical face. The way cilantro chili pepper eggs in roti were simple and yet savory as ever like your dahl, your fried fish, anything you cooked. Your heart that gave away so much love and you only got so much in return. You gave me love and I am so thankful for all that you have been in my life, my Grandma. These are my words for you.

#Blackness #Black #Indian #India #Love #Family #Story #Life

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therevolutionwillnot · 5 years

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Hello fuckin New Year-

*this is a fucking rant 2018… 2018 was getting my first abortion, medical abortion. And through all of it realizing I want a kid, or kids. And realizing that I do not have to be married or with a partner in order to do so. 2018 was when my brother’s dad disowned him. And realized our family is a fuck. 2018 was when our mother sort of disowned me as well, because I never learned how to budget or handle my private student loans (I wasn’t recieving my paychecks for 2 months…so it wasn’t even my doing)-her credit got fucked. Essentially she blames me for her bad credit and won’t speak to me. 2018 was the saddest birthday I’ve ever had. She didn’t even take me to have dinner which we do every year. 2018 was the most emotional holiday season. Because I spent it alone in my friends giant mansion house where they celebrated joyously. 2018 I realized I’m in love with my old childhood friend, but he’s in Florida with his very cute girlfriend and I wish him all the happiness the universe can throw. And I thank the universe that I am blessed to know someone so amazing. 2018 I hashed so much. And enjoyed so many drunk trails. 2018 my old high school friend/neighbor and I reconnected. I really need to hit up her r&b yoga class. 2018 had ended a relationship with a very attractive beardman (but there many lessons to gleam from that) and the other was even moreso teachable. 2018 I fell for a guy who had the cutest dad bod. 2018 my grandma died. And there isn’t enough light in the world to bring her back, or her dahl or her laughter when I told her ridiculous stories. I loved to make her laugh. 2018 my brother and I are spending more time with our grandma. She needs all the love that she missed in our childhood. 2018 I started shadow boxing and I love it. 2018 my new job, my coworkers, the kids we work with-I am so fucking happy at this job. And it pays a little more. 2018 I supposed to move to New Mexico with my soul bitch. Instead I’m moving in with my lil bro who needs this. 2018 said I have friends. 2018 my sestra didn’t kill herself but her cancer got worse. I spent the last moments of your year with her. She still fuckin breathin and fightin bitch. 2018 I started hiking a bit. 2018 I owe the IRS bout $2000 from 2016 taxes. Fuck. Me. 2018 I fell in love with an amazing human…I don’t know if I should tell him. We’re just dating. 2018 so much I learned from you. So many fucked up things have happened. I felt like shit 2019 morning, not even hungover. But yesterday I got back to the giant mansion house. My friend was outside. She invited me to lunch with her fam. Italian. Family style. I ate so well. We had beers. Good time, watching them fam up. We got back, I packed and moved my shit in to our new place with my lil bro. Got the keys. And I felt. Felt. Shit. I’m moving. My life is always moving.

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