subject line: why?

 

roswell, georgia

75 years. Numerous women. Countless drinks, late nights, and lies.

My grandfather’s birthday was yesterday. His past is full of scars. He cheated on multiple wives, including one of my most favorite women ever, my grandmother. He spent years looking for contentment at the bottom of the bottle. He left; he left my daddy fatherless when he chose her, when he chose the women that assisted him in wrecking our family.

He hurt us all. He changed the way I view things like love and commitment. He’s the reason I stay home on Christmas day and why I’m scared to death to trust anyone. He made awful decisions. Maybe he’s different now, but maybe I don’t care enough to find out.

I know Jesus died for his sins the same way he did for mine. I know we’ve all messed up, but he doesn’t get to do that. He doesn’t get to break vows, live in immorality, tear our family to shreds, live happily ever after with his adulteress, and expect me to give him big bear hugs as I tell him I love him.

But still, we show up. We stand as one big, broken family in his driveway yelling “SURPRISE!” as he pulls in. We sign cards with heartfelt words crafted by writers who know nothing about the crooked map that led us to where we are today. We sing as he blows out the candles; we tell his wife she planned a beautiful party.

And then we leave, always wondering why.

I hope he knows that I am forever wondering why. I am trying to forgive him and I am wondering why. I am hurt and wondering why. I am striving to be bigger than this, to not carry this baggage any further, and still, I am wondering why.