Part I
I am not particular sure where this line of thought will go, but it has been on my mind quite a bit, especially since RKT was born. Perhaps it will help me understand my ancestors, my upbringing and my own beliefs better, or perhaps it will not.
For the longest time, I always thought that people did not change, that one was the product of their childhood and for the most part belief structures and thought patterns were hardwired for life. I staunchly thought this during my divorce when my ex-wife was undergoing a profound alteration to her beliefs and viewpoints, which at the time I resisted. I realize now that she was changing, and that it wasn’t that I objected to the change, but that I objected to what she was changing into. Qué sera, sera.
From a personal standpoint, I still was adamant that I would not change until a brief conversation with Analee on Moore’s Pond Road two or so years ago. I do not recall how the conversation began or specifically what it was about, but the final comment from Analee was “You’re changing. You’re growing up. I think you are ready for church now.”
I am sure I clammed up at that point because I was aghast that she would say I was changing, and that I, a Thornburg, was ready for church. In retrospect, that made me realize that change can be good, and not necessarily the end, but perhaps a beginning. That is one of the most important conversations we have ever had, and I have not and will not forget it.
Since that day, I have mulled over what I am changing into, likely dragging my heels in apprehension. As my wife can attest, I am painfully slow at decision making (a personal weakness) and even slower at moving in general. I liken it the fact I like to do something once, so I make sure I’m right before taking the first step. That too may be a personality flaw, but it makes me more secure.
With Analee’s Granddaddy’s passing on Saturday, I was the one who received the call. The house was quiet, as the kids and Ana were napping, and then the cell phones rang. I silenced them quickly to avoid waking the kids. Then the house phone rang, and I knew I had to answer the phone. It was Mamaw. I curtly said “Everyone is asleep.” She calmly replied “Granddaddy passed at five past three.” I think I abruptly said “Ok”, and that was it.
I laid back down on the couch and then wondered if I should wake Analee. I thought “No. She’s sick and tired. Let her sleep. It can wait until she wakes up.” During the next 30 minutes I blankly stared at some NCAA basketball game wondering how I was going to tell her that her Granddaddy had passed. I have never been in this situation before and was dreading telling her. I cowardly thought of calling her Mom, and having her call back later to tell her, but I knew that was wrong. If Ana had to bear me bad news, I would rather it come from her for she is my rock.
Around 3:40, I heard RKT quietly calling “Daddy, where are you?” I went upstairs and found him tucked under his covers playing with his blankets and toy bus driver. Apparently I rushed him too quickly out of bed to get HNT, and he immediately went into melt down mode. This raised the stress level for me because surely he had woken Ana from her much needed nap. After getting HNT out of her crib, I made for the bedroom door to tell Analee the news, to which RKT blocked the door. Finally coaxing RKT to let me into the bedroom by conning him into playing with HNT in the family room, I walked up to Analee.
“You need to call your Mom.” I said, almost chickening out again, then said what I needed to say, “Your granddaddy passed away.” I didn’t know what to expect next, but she said “What time? Did she say what happened?” Then I realized that death is not necessarily a bad thing. I am sure it made her sad, but it also came as a relief to her because death, like change, is not necessarily the end, but a new beginning.
For the longest time, I always thought that people did not change, that one was the product of their childhood and for the most part belief structures and thought patterns were hardwired for life. I staunchly thought this during my divorce when my ex-wife was undergoing a profound alteration to her beliefs and viewpoints, which at the time I resisted. I realize now that she was changing, and that it wasn’t that I objected to the change, but that I objected to what she was changing into. Qué sera, sera.
From a personal standpoint, I still was adamant that I would not change until a brief conversation with Analee on Moore’s Pond Road two or so years ago. I do not recall how the conversation began or specifically what it was about, but the final comment from Analee was “You’re changing. You’re growing up. I think you are ready for church now.”
I am sure I clammed up at that point because I was aghast that she would say I was changing, and that I, a Thornburg, was ready for church. In retrospect, that made me realize that change can be good, and not necessarily the end, but perhaps a beginning. That is one of the most important conversations we have ever had, and I have not and will not forget it.
Since that day, I have mulled over what I am changing into, likely dragging my heels in apprehension. As my wife can attest, I am painfully slow at decision making (a personal weakness) and even slower at moving in general. I liken it the fact I like to do something once, so I make sure I’m right before taking the first step. That too may be a personality flaw, but it makes me more secure.
With Analee’s Granddaddy’s passing on Saturday, I was the one who received the call. The house was quiet, as the kids and Ana were napping, and then the cell phones rang. I silenced them quickly to avoid waking the kids. Then the house phone rang, and I knew I had to answer the phone. It was Mamaw. I curtly said “Everyone is asleep.” She calmly replied “Granddaddy passed at five past three.” I think I abruptly said “Ok”, and that was it.
I laid back down on the couch and then wondered if I should wake Analee. I thought “No. She’s sick and tired. Let her sleep. It can wait until she wakes up.” During the next 30 minutes I blankly stared at some NCAA basketball game wondering how I was going to tell her that her Granddaddy had passed. I have never been in this situation before and was dreading telling her. I cowardly thought of calling her Mom, and having her call back later to tell her, but I knew that was wrong. If Ana had to bear me bad news, I would rather it come from her for she is my rock.
Around 3:40, I heard RKT quietly calling “Daddy, where are you?” I went upstairs and found him tucked under his covers playing with his blankets and toy bus driver. Apparently I rushed him too quickly out of bed to get HNT, and he immediately went into melt down mode. This raised the stress level for me because surely he had woken Ana from her much needed nap. After getting HNT out of her crib, I made for the bedroom door to tell Analee the news, to which RKT blocked the door. Finally coaxing RKT to let me into the bedroom by conning him into playing with HNT in the family room, I walked up to Analee.
“You need to call your Mom.” I said, almost chickening out again, then said what I needed to say, “Your granddaddy passed away.” I didn’t know what to expect next, but she said “What time? Did she say what happened?” Then I realized that death is not necessarily a bad thing. I am sure it made her sad, but it also came as a relief to her because death, like change, is not necessarily the end, but a new beginning.
1 comment:
"...she was changing, and that it wasn’t that I objected to the change, but that I objected to what she was changing into..."
the irony. very personal.
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