Triggers – History Revisited
My mom always said that history tends to repeat its self.
Unfortunately it does. Fortunately it exposes people as their true selves.
My mom loved her Ouma dearly, she loved spending time with her.
Her Ouma taught her things that no one else in our family know. *I guess they are too set in their ways.*
Ouma loved her cat, she loved to crochet. My mom said that as she would crochet her cat would play with the ball of wool at her feet. My mom has memories with her Ouma like I have with my grandparents.
I know well that this is rare; that a teenager actually wants to spend time with their grand parents.
Ouma wasn’t wealthy, but there were a few small items that she wanted my mom to have. When she died some greedy little beings decided that these belonged to them. Yes little beings, young souls who haven’t evolved past the point of knowing that material items won’t and don’t get you anywhere in life.
It is sad that this had to happen as my mom would have valued those few things more than any one would know. Except me of course.
As I write this I can feel my grandparents presence, especially my Gramps. Always the joker. “Clickety – Click” I know this has absolutely nothing about my story, or maybe it does. My son just asked about his veins and I explained that it is genetic. My Gramps had varicose veins removed when he was sixty six – hence the “clickety – click”. I spent my holiday helping my gran while he was recovering at home. This makes me feel that they are still around.
Any way, in Triggers – Part 2 I told you about how my Gramps’ death affected me and how family stole my moment to mourn. I really believe with all my heart that they should have included me. However, jealousy and spite are also traits of young souls. Yes, to reiterate I spent time with my grand parents – time that is more precious than anything material.
When my Gramps passed away my gran decided to move to Durban, to be near her brother and also because I had moved here.
She divided the items she no longer needed with everyone. What a mess it was. This one didn’t want this, they wanted that, the next person didn’t want anything. I said to my gran, “I am newly married, if you want to give me something, I’ll appreciate it.” I ended up getting the dining room table, which according to my gran was promised to me in my grandparents will. I also got some other items from the house that no one wanted, also because there was so much fighting! Which is what my Gran didn’t want – which is why I remained neutral.
Things, weren’t easy from when my Gran first arrived in Durban. I set out to be my usual giving self – and then things changed.
My mom said one minute my gran was saying how wonderful I was and the next she wasn’t.
What happened was – she needed a small fridge for her room. Her brother had come back with prices that were simply exorbitant, and wanted to take my Gran’s money and buy the fridge on his own. Instead, my husband went scouting for prices on fridges and then described each one to my gran. Once she made her decision on which one sounded the best, we took her to the shop where she finalised her decision and made her own purchase. you see, she had strokes and shop hopping was not easy.
After this I was marked as a thief.
All because the real thief, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, didn’t want to reveal his true intentions.
This episode took moments away that my son could have spent with his great grandmother. More valuable than the money the wolf wanted to line his own pockets with.
My Grans health deteriorated. I suggested she move closer to where I was; as I knew people at the retirement village. Having a toddler and a new baby on the way, it would have made life much easier for me.
My mom however moved my Gran closer to her, and my brother took on the role that I had for years. It grew the bond between him and my Gran. Because of this he has moments with my Gran that no one can replace.
My Grans health deteriorated further, but the waiting list for the village she wanted to go to was still too long. Once again I suggested that we try the village close to where I lived. I in fact made some enquiries and my Gran would have been able to move there almost immediately. Instead, the conniving young souls, banded together in a nasty fashion and moved my Gran to some God Forsaken town in the Free State.
My Gran hated it there. She said that it felt like being a Christian had escaped her. She was no where near her grand children; the ones she wanted to be near. She told me how she wanted to pack up and leave, how she missed my brother terribly, and how it saddened her not to be there for the birth of her new great grand baby.
My baby, was then born, after literally 9 months of morning sickness, and moving house two weeks prior to her birth.
A beautiful little angel entered the world who reminded me of my gran. My grans words over the phone were “Dianne, has a little doll now.”
I wish I could have taken her to see my gran. Its is the BIGGEST regret I have. Circumstance just wouldn’t have it. We had to move as our lease was up where we were, yes a second move.
After that money was tight as the only place we could find was double the rent we were paying. This cancelled out any possible travelling.
My gran then had a major heart operation. There were some complications and she stopped talking after the op.
I sent photos at least once a week to my gran and still phoned her regularly. I hated this. I realised what abusive bastards were looking after her. On one call about a week or so before she passed, a feeble excuse for a nursing sister held the phone to my Grans ear. I could hear her breathe. I spoke for a little and then said goodbye. The sister never put the phone down properly and while still on the line I heard how she shouted at my Gran. “Say thank you Mrs. Leviton!” In her evil abuser voice. She then realised the receiver wasn’t down heard me shouting at her and lifted it again. I told her that her behaviour was unacceptable.
This has haunted me for years. The whole experience really.
The young souls who stole away what should have also been my moment to mourn, stole away the meeting of a great grand mother; the “greatest” granny as Gran would say; and a great grand daughter.
I cry at Christmas, on my Gran’s birth and death anniversaries because of this. Another precious moment stolen.
Her memorial was done by a turd of a Dominee, who waffled on about how grand children visited their grand parents. He knew nothing. His words only highlighted the fact that my Gran would never hold her great grand daughter in her arms. It caused more heart ache and years of trying to see the bright side of an otherwise dark situation.
The picture on her memorial picture was sad and didn’t show an ounce of who my Gran really was.
I realise now that all this was because of greed.
When it came to the inheritance being split, I was excluded. What I was supposed to receive (not a huge amount in any terms) was supposed to be split between my children.
Ok, I know you’re thinking, what a bitter woman.
No, I am not.
I know for a fact that my children will never see a cent of that money, which is being kept in a “so called” trust. There are just too many irregularities. This was what my grand father worked for and HE decided where the money should have gone with my gran. That is how it should have been. I should have contested that these evil people were manipulating my Gran. I should have used HER money to give HER a better life. Not the evil ones who stole what was HERS FIRST AND FOREMOST.
The young souls lined their pockets, took their inheritance and once again made as if I never existed.
Looking at the atrocious way my Gran lived towards the end of her life she should have used that money to make her life more comfortable. Of course the young souls had no hindsight to see this. Her well being wasn’t their mission. It was to separate her from all she held dear.
It was spite and jealousy and evil!
When the last of my Grans belongings were shared, I asked for one item. Something that I could keep to remember her by. From my Gramps I have his mouth organ which holds memories of times on the stoep, joking around. Instead I got some beaded jewellery which I have no recollection of and will never wear, and some odd earrings (my ears aren’t pierced).
Once again, history repeated itself.
As I said in Triggers – Part 2 the bad memories I have can go on to haunting the young souls now. As an old soul I know that money is only good to keep you clothed and fed. It doesn’t buy happiness. If anything, I hope this exposes the young souls for their malicious true selves and that their happy go lucky existence is ruffled enough to open their eyes to a greater good. Why, because that is what my Gran was about.
The young souls evil deeds will no longer haunt me, for in my heart I see my Gran holding my daughter and my son. I see her holding her newest great grand daughter too, my brothers daughter, who will hold a good piece of her soul in her heart. My Grans legacy of purity and all that is good will live on in them, because the memories my brother and I have are far more valuable than what thieves. can steal.
I leave you with the song that should have been played at my Grans Memorial, one that described who she really was, an Old Soul, who knew a deeper meaning to life and taught it to those who listened. Jesus, All for Jesus by Robin Mark
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