Sometimes, we lie

Dear Myra,

Grandma Jo was a liar. She told me the world was hopeless, and that everything keeps getting worse. That is simply not true.

I believe that nothing is getting worse, but we are all pulling back the curtain together. We are opening as a family. We’re cutting through the bullshit. Pulling back the curtain means those problems have always been there, but no one wanted to admit it before. I'm not sure if anyone wants to admit it now.

I think it just hurts sometimes when things change. A lot of people are not prepared to change and would rather stomp their feet and say they don't want to talk about it. It's so much easier to say the world is "getting worse" than to really stop and think about why you feel that way. I think it is also easier to face bad things when you try to keep them vague and not personal.

And it all sucks, I’m definitely not trying to deny that! But there is a clear line between the ones in our family that have taken this chance to open themselves up, become more vulnerable, and the ones who have built their walls higher to keep themselves safe. I hope they understand one day that they can't always run from things that don't make sense.

Grandma Jo told me that our cousins, Keith and Jake, had something wrong with them. Their lives were full of so much drama and that they’ll never calm down. They were low class, struggling. I don’t believe that either. Jake started selling cars and bought his own house, and Keith got married and has two little boys. I think that life can get messy, and it is meant to be messy!

Everyone grows differently. A sunflower grows straight up, but ivy has a way of curling and climbing and clinging on to anything it can find. The sunflower dies fast, and the ivy might hurt other things along the way, but here we all are breathing the same air and staring at the same sun.

I left a huge bouquet on Grandma Jo’s grave yesterday. I told her about all the things she was wrong about and asked her to be more polite in the afterlife. I’m all she has left now, as no one else ever comes to see her grave. I wish she would have let more people in. I tell her all the good things too, and I'm sure that being pleasantly wrong doesn't hurt her feelings too badly. I’m sorry she never came to see you. I think it was just too painful for her, and she was the type to build walls so high she could no longer see what was on the other side.

I hope you are doing well. I want you to know that I think about you constantly. Your ice cream bowl has become a permanent decoration on top of my fridge. (Don't worry, I don't let anyone use it.) Sometimes, when I buy pistachio ice cream, I'll wish I was sharing it with you.

Anyway, I love you dearly. I still have all the shells you sent me in those glass bottles, along with some sand. I plan to write a letter every year now, so expect to get one from me until I finally get to see you again.

Sincerely,

Allynne

P.S. I found a really cute decorative rock with a ladybug on it that I’m leaving this letter under near the bouquet I left for you.