As I was sorting the mail today I came across an envelope addressed to me but with a Commercial Door Systems address. The envelope had no return address and the writing was scribbled in extremely bad penmanship. It almost appears as if it was written by a child.
However, I knew immediately who it was from.
It's from my Grandmother.
Grandma Margie.
When I was in 1st Year at Guelph, Grandpa Ken had just sold his business and was hoping to retire to a life of leisure. He and Grandma Margie were in the process of moving across Sydenham Lake to a smaller, newly renovated home. After nearly 55 years in the same house, it was time to down-size. I went to help them move a bed, one day. It was a large bed to go in a too small room. But, Grandma Margie had her vision of how the house was laid out so it had to go in there. Dad, Jeff and I had a few suggestions as did Grandpa Ken. Grandma Margie was adamant.
A few months later, I heard from Nana that Grandpa Ken was gone. He simply left. The country.
Looking back, I can clearly see that the signs were there. My brother stayed at their house once when he was little. He came home regaling us with stories of how Grandpa Ken had a bed and TV at work in his office "in case he worked overtime." Grandma Margie used to say that "Ken sometimes comes home really late and he leaves really early in the morning." She was controlling and obsessive. It was her way or the highway.
Now, we know that he had been seeing his secretary for 20 years. When he disappeared, he moved to Florida and did some soul-searching. Upon return, he divorced Grandma Margie. I heard she received a nice settlement.
She was livid. She became a recluse and blamed everyone and everything but herself. She spoke rudely to Mom, Dad, me my brothers, Nana - Anyone who tried to help. She tried taking up hobbies like kayaking...Until she broke her leg wrestling it into the water. A year ago she had a nasty fall in the winter trying to get a Christmas Tree down from the rafters in her garage. occasionally, she sends angry letters that are meant to invoke sympathy or depressive letters asking us to visit her.
Dad tries to talk to her; of her two sons he is the only one to make the effort. But, she has weird moods and perhaps a heavy drinking problem. She dug a deep grave when Grandpa Ken left her and I think she's realizing now that she might not be able to get out.
Anyways, back to the letter.
Obviously, it's meant to be a Birthday card, although she hasn't written anything other than my birth date and her name in the card. The card came inside two envelopes. The first was addressed to my parents new apartment:
Mr. Mark Collins
220 Smugglers Rd.
Kingston, Ont.
OR
Penthouse
Ontario Str.
Kingston, Ont.
Which has been crossed out. That envelope was inside another that read:
Mr. Mark Collins
(Commercial Door - crossed out) Overhead Door Installers
639A Justus Dr.
Kingston, Ont.
I feel sorry for her. She has no idea about my coming out, Brian, my new house, my cat. And, perhaps, it's for the best.
Grandpa Ken is extremely happy with his girlfriend. When I came out to him this past Father's Day he was more than accepting. I think he's realized after 55 years of a miserable marriage that you're nothing unless you're happy. He's happy that I'm happy.
Life is weird.
However, I knew immediately who it was from.
It's from my Grandmother.
Grandma Margie.
When I was in 1st Year at Guelph, Grandpa Ken had just sold his business and was hoping to retire to a life of leisure. He and Grandma Margie were in the process of moving across Sydenham Lake to a smaller, newly renovated home. After nearly 55 years in the same house, it was time to down-size. I went to help them move a bed, one day. It was a large bed to go in a too small room. But, Grandma Margie had her vision of how the house was laid out so it had to go in there. Dad, Jeff and I had a few suggestions as did Grandpa Ken. Grandma Margie was adamant.
A few months later, I heard from Nana that Grandpa Ken was gone. He simply left. The country.
Looking back, I can clearly see that the signs were there. My brother stayed at their house once when he was little. He came home regaling us with stories of how Grandpa Ken had a bed and TV at work in his office "in case he worked overtime." Grandma Margie used to say that "Ken sometimes comes home really late and he leaves really early in the morning." She was controlling and obsessive. It was her way or the highway.
Now, we know that he had been seeing his secretary for 20 years. When he disappeared, he moved to Florida and did some soul-searching. Upon return, he divorced Grandma Margie. I heard she received a nice settlement.
She was livid. She became a recluse and blamed everyone and everything but herself. She spoke rudely to Mom, Dad, me my brothers, Nana - Anyone who tried to help. She tried taking up hobbies like kayaking...Until she broke her leg wrestling it into the water. A year ago she had a nasty fall in the winter trying to get a Christmas Tree down from the rafters in her garage. occasionally, she sends angry letters that are meant to invoke sympathy or depressive letters asking us to visit her.
Dad tries to talk to her; of her two sons he is the only one to make the effort. But, she has weird moods and perhaps a heavy drinking problem. She dug a deep grave when Grandpa Ken left her and I think she's realizing now that she might not be able to get out.
Anyways, back to the letter.
Obviously, it's meant to be a Birthday card, although she hasn't written anything other than my birth date and her name in the card. The card came inside two envelopes. The first was addressed to my parents new apartment:
Mr. Mark Collins
220 Smugglers Rd.
Kingston, Ont.
OR
Penthouse
Ontario Str.
Kingston, Ont.
Which has been crossed out. That envelope was inside another that read:
Mr. Mark Collins
(Commercial Door - crossed out) Overhead Door Installers
639A Justus Dr.
Kingston, Ont.
I feel sorry for her. She has no idea about my coming out, Brian, my new house, my cat. And, perhaps, it's for the best.
Grandpa Ken is extremely happy with his girlfriend. When I came out to him this past Father's Day he was more than accepting. I think he's realized after 55 years of a miserable marriage that you're nothing unless you're happy. He's happy that I'm happy.
Life is weird.
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