We made it home after a wonderful two days away camping. Grandma is happier than I've ever seen her. We are unloading the car. She heads in with an armload while I start making a pile of her things near the doorway.
Suddenly, all I can hear is barking, screaming, “FUCKING CUNT!”
And Grandma comes running out of the house.
“She grabbed me with her nails! She fucking grabbed me and dug in. She thought I was going to throw the dog (the Jack Russel) and she grabbed me. You know I was in a good mood!” She looks at me, and turns her head sideways, as if asking, “And what are you going to do about it”? She makes eye contact and her eyes bug out of her head.
We've barely been home 2 minutes and there is already a problem. She had bought medicines and treats for the granddaughter on the way home, so I know this wasn't what she was intending. She had been smiling and laughing the whole way home. It had been so peaceful, now the screams permeate my ears.
The granddaughter is at her screaming viciously, an ear piercing screech, so loudly I can hear her clearly from outside the house. The neighbours sitting on their front lawn stare over. Grandma looks at me and explains the situation again. I don't know what to do. I freeze. This day has gone sideways in an instant. The granddaughter not feeling well and letting everyone be part of it. The only way this family knows how.
I still have to take our mutual friend and her sick dog home from the camping trip. I have stuff to do in the afternoon. My cat is desperately waiting at home to be fed. I don't want to deal with this right now. What can I do?
Talking it out does not work. Trying to intervene gets very little accomplished. Most of the time, a little bit of time is all it takes and they're besties again. This time feels different. It always feels different in the moment. Always urgent and more desperate than the last.
I help her with the final items, and set them inside the front door. The screaming stops for a second. I say quick goodbyes, not even wanting to engage. Knowing it will get me nowhere and leave.
As I'm driving away, the texts start pouring in, from BOTH of them. Both of them explaining their side to me, and a third in a group chat continuing the fight. I wish the kids wouldn't engage her like this. My grandma was insane. She was schizophrenic and lost in her own world more often then not. She always wanted a fight, a debate, but we never gave her one.
These kids have no responsibilities. No school. They are depressed and anxious beyond belief, and have very few skills for life. They often seem to have no common sense. I understand your Grandma can be difficult, believe me, I do. But she was a residential school survivor. She is a cancer survivor. She is your Elder. She deserves respect. Hold your tongue and move on. Do your part, and move on.
The part they fail to realize is much of the fighting can be stopped if they merely cleaned up after themselves. Not even cleaned beyond themselves. Just did their own dishes. Keep vomit and shit off the floor, less difficult then it seems for some reason. Human vomit and dog shit littered among the blankets on the bedroom floor. Too depressed and feckless to do anything about it.
Housing calls Grandma in the interim of me dropping off my friend and heading home. By the time I reach my door, she's calling me frantically. “They are going to make me leave my house. She called them and said she's moving out. Now I'm overhoused.”
She fears because the only place they have to move her is in what is essentially an Indigenous flop-house, a rooming home for drug addicts and alcoholics. She would have to give up her dogs and cats, her family, the only beings who truly care for her on this earth.
The last few hours has been like emotional whiplash. Now there's a new crisis to solve and it's only a Tuesday.
Have you ever come home from somewhere peaceful and immediately been thrown back into someone else's crisis? Tell me about it.