My grandmother is insane, and I have proof.
but first, a note: This is the only drama I allow in my life, and even then, in very small doses. The following is an intimate look at my father's crazy family. I am writing this all out because I need to vent. Feel free not to read this one.
Before I detail why she's insane, I need to give you some background.
A few months ago my grandfather (who is a known alcoholic and diabetic who never eats anything) fell in his workshop and hit his head. He fell so hard he knocked one of his teeth out. My uncle, who works in a hospital, told my aunt (who is also crazy) and grandmother to take him to the hospital. I'm not actually sure if they did, but I know paramedics came, because we have a statement from them on how nasty the house was... they could barely get a gurney inside.
The house. Well, it's always been messy. My grandmother has a buffet of mental sicknesses. One manifestation is she forms personal, intimate relationships with people she sees on tv. This includes Diane Sawyer, Madeline Albright and all the personalities on... not the home shopping network, the other one... but they're the same thing... Anyway, this leads her to buy whatever they say she should. Which means her beautiful riverside 2-story massive home is filled with boxes and boxes of crap. What's worse, is she buys gifts for holidays years in advance (several of the boxes say things like "Katie birthday 2005") and then loses them in the mess and has to re-buy something else ridiculous when the actual holiday comes along.
On top of the boxes, you have the dog. The only animal that actually lives inside. There are dozens of stray cats she has taken in, but only the blind, deaf, mean, biting pekingese dog who wanders around bumping into things is allowed inside. The dog cannot control her bladder anymore. So there are puppy pads lining the "path" that has been cleared through the boxes, and the dog often misses. G-R-O-S-S. All the dust and dog dander and pee smell add up to 1 thing. One nasty ass house.
I digress.
Anyway, my grandfather (bless him for putting up with that woman) was taken to the hospital and then to a rehab facility so he could learn to use his muscles again (he now has some brain damage). Well, for some reason, when all this was going on, my grandmother signed power of attorney over to her daughter (who if you remember is as bats*it crazy as she is). My uncle talked her into changing her mind, and she signed it over to my grandfather's brother. He's a perfectly reasonable, sane, good man. A very logical choice for a power of attorney-- though we still don't know why my grandmother thought it was necessary to have one (we're thinking she tried to talk my grandfather into a suicide pact but it didn't work).
Anyway, my great uncle saw the horrid conditions of the house and said 'ain't no way in hell my now-disabled brother is coming back to live in this home'... so, he called for an intervention. My father, his younger brother and my great uncle all planned, in secret, an intervention for my grandmother. Basically a 'clean up your act or we're calling social services' thing. They didn't tell my aunt until it was the day it was to happen, because she's crazy and would have told my grandmother. So my father traveled to Tennessee (about a month ago) for the whole thing... and needless to say, it did not go well. Apparently my grandmother stormed out, grandfather in tow. And the family has only heard of them since then long enough for my grandmother to inform everyone that they are dead to us.
She actually asked someone to tell her great-grandchildren (who are around ages 6 and 4) that she and my grandfather are dead to them.
She hasn't outright told me, or my sister this, but I'm sure it's how she feels.
Until now, I haven't heard a peep from her. For all she knows, I know nothing of what happened (even though I fully support what my father did-- lord knows it wasn't easy.) My 25th birthday was nearly 3 weeks ago. My grandmother has never sent a late card in her life. Birthday cards from her are always very loving, signed in her pretty handwriting with usually a $100 check attached. So, you have to imagine my shock when I got this in the mail yesterday:
It's a generic birthday card, nearly 3 weeks late. So generic in fact, there is no human handwriting on it. It is all typed, the address (to Mrs. Matt Rutland-- blurred for my privacy, I don't know who all reads this), the return address on the back (which was just an address, no names), and my grandfather's name typed onto a piece of paper and glued onto the card. That's what makes this so ridiculous. They don't own a computer. She actually had to type it out on a typewriter and GLUE the paper to the inside and outside of the envelope. All this likely took more time than it actually would have to write it out. Also, please note, her name was nowhere on the card. NOWHERE. I think I got a more personal birthday card from my bank branch. That at least had handwritten signatures on it. She did enclose some birthday money. A $20 bill. She gave Matt more for his birthday (although that was before she was dead).
How interesting it is to get a birthday card from a 'dead' grandmother.
I called my mother and told her about this. She was in complete disbelief and made me vow to bring it with me when I come for a visit next week.
So, I am not sure what to make of all this. How am I supposed to feel/react? I think I'm going to pen a very nice thank you note (leaving out the fact that I plan to use the money to buy a large bottle of booze) and kill her with kindness. Like nothing about the card was strange (or completely insne) at all. Because I think she's baiting me. She wants me to call her and say "Grandmama, what's wrong?!!" etc, etc.
I just don't have the energy to deal with my grandmother, who acts more like a 13-year-old girl than an elderly woman.
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