Don’t push people away!
The second day of my yearly blogging adventure already caught me in a stump. The very thing that kicked me in my butt yesterday and made me start my blogging adventure is now gutting me. My grandmother passed away yesterday. And as it usually happens, in situations like this you become more introspective — so I’ve spent quite some time reflecting upon what I could have done better/different. What I could have learned from the time spent with her. What I can still learn from the memories that all of a sudden seem to randomly gush out of the depths of my being.
It would be silly to encompass all of the things into a single lesson. Yet, the one message that haunted me today was the title of today’s blog entry: Don’t push people away!
You see, my grandparents had to go through a lot. Living in a village was not easy. The Second World War and the period that followed, the soviet occupation of Romania, scarcity and famine, communism, a weird period of transitional democracy, kids to raise, family scattered across several villages, intense and long field labor, a troublesome marriage, my grandfather’s death over twenty years ago — all left scars on her. Wounds that never really got to heal. Even more, wounds that she did not try to heal. After my grandfather’s passing away, she slowly started turning people away. Even though she was alone for most of the time in her cottage in the village, she did not appreciate it when her neighbors were visiting her. She’d turned bitter. She’d lost the power to be grateful — even for the smallest things. A nice word from a neighbor. A helping hand. Somebody to help her with carrying a bucket of water. She’d cut the ties with the outside world, without strengthening her ties with herself, centering herself and finding inner balance.
When your inner compass needs to be calibrated but there’s nobody around to mirror your true state, things easily get out of hand. She has spent the last years back home with my mother and my sister — somehow against her will, as she always wanted to go back to her cottage — even though she was not capable of taking care of herself anymore. Her mental state slowly started to degrade. And the bitterness increased every passing day.
I can not help thinking about the connection between the two — driving people away and her degrading mental state. And all the good that she could have done should she have chosen differently. Besides all the love that she showered on me, her brilliant food, all the times she took care of me, taught me which mushrooms to pick and which to avoid, how to use a loom, what plants are good for what affections and many other things I’ve learned from her — this is maybe my most important lesson: Choose to be the best version of yourself. Choose to do good to others. Choose to bring people together and help them become better versions of themselves.
Thank you, grandma, and Rest in Peace!
