My dead grandad is the most consistent man in my life
This is by no means an insult to my beloved father. He was loving, gentle and courageous. He was also a free spirit who lived off the edge of the world which was terrifying for his young daughter.
But back to the title. My late grandfather Claudius used to send me birthday and Christmas cards every year until his death when I was 5. So consistent was this man we got his Christmas card shortly before his death. He remembered me even in his final days. That’s love. Why does it mean so much to me? Because he did his job as my grandfather. My dad often didn’t protect me, often put me in extremely distressing situations. My grandad on the other hand sent Christmas cards and birthday cards. You may think that was not a lot. But it was the 1990’s and getting cards from Sierra Leone to England to pre-planning, intention and money. He used to buy my younger cousin ginger cake every week as it was her favourite. She’s his 3rd granddaughter, I’m 3 months older and the second granddaughter, the start of a baby boom. I meant something to him. I’m his only grandchild by his middle daughter. Why does any of that matter? I have always wanted to mean something to someone. Most especially my family. And he was the only person on my mum’s side (technically on both sides) to actually love and care for me in the appropriate manner. A rise in standards means I now don’t get so hurt and disappointed when they mess up, but it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt entirely. The quote of the year has been… “God made me too.” because the way some people treat me you’d think I didn’t exist or was the product of Satan. Its not cute… People should remember my birthday. My dad when he was alive would not answer the phone on his birthday. Why? Because if you wanted to wish him happy birthday, you should send him a card. That means you remembered 2-3 days before, had the intention to buy a card, then write in the card, then buy a stamp, then post the card in time for the last post of that day to arrive in time for my dad’s birthday. Back in the day posting of cards was an art not a science. Amazon has meant if I want something tomorrow, as long as I say I want it before about 8pm today I can have it tomorrow. He wanted big love. And getting someone a card is the least you can do. People expect “good old fashioned” standards for themselves and not giving them for other people. Take me for example. I love my American nephew very much. Been intending to go visit (where is the money though???) and remember his birthday and get him presents and do the same at Christmas. I speak to his dad once every couple of months, so if I want to organise his birthday present. I need to do so in March for May. I always call/message on his birthday but this year I have been very unwell, so I missed getting his present in time. In response I’m doing something for him for Thanksgiving. But my challenge for myself is that I will send him Christmas money in December, and birthday money in May going forward. When he makes it as a policeman (his last ambition when I spoke to him aged about 8) I want to be able to say I’m related to Law enforcement. I can’t do that if I don’t build bridges now.
In Sierra Leone they have a phrase “you don’t beat a child when they spill whiskey, you beat them when they spill water” When my nephew looks back on his relationship with me, he’ll say it started around the 13 years old mark, (he’s 12 now, but I’ve not done a lot) because that’s when I became consistent. I, on the other hand looking at my family shouldn’t be mad that no one remembered my 31st birthday. I have 3 aunts and 4 uncles who are related to my mum (less said about dad’s family the better) and the fact is, I shouldn’t be mad when they missed my birthday just after my dad died, I should have been mad that they NEVER remembered my birthday. Not once as a child. My grandad was the only one. I should have had cards from 8 adults on my mum’s side of the family at birthdays and Christmas from birth to 18. Those 8 adults are the following…
My grandparents (as a couple) Claudius Snr and Gloria Grosvenor
My Aunt Beatrice
My Aunt Waltina
My Aunt Claudia.
My Uncle Claudius
My Uncle Glenis MY MUM’s TWIN???
My Uncle Walter,
My uncle Adebayo.
8 adults, twice a year for 18 years in terms of giving me a birthday/Christmas card…
I should have received 288 cards as basic affection from my mum’s side of the family between 0 and 18. I received 10. All from one person. Grandad Claudius. That’s a fail mark in any exam. I didn’t even receive 10% of what I should have. And that’s a fair representation of what I get in terms of love and affection from mum’s side of the family. Not even 10%. Heaven knows I have given you the story of my first marriage, where my grandma bought a wooden carved plaque for me which didn’t make sense in either Creole or English (as they have the same grammatical structure) and thought it unreasonable to go and ensure the carved plaque for her granddaughter’s wedding gift was correct before coming to England despite living in a country where a sizeable amount of working age adults are illiterate.
Then we have the only other member of the family to “buy” me a wedding gift for my first marriage… My aunt Waltina, who gave me unsewn black and burgundy pillowcases. I was hurt. It was worse than no gift at all. It was insulting, especially as my ex husband’s family who were Welsh bought us traditional Welsh love spoons, a beautiful piece of art and my African family bought me the “unsewn pillowcases” (scraps of fabric) and a plaque that made no grammatical sense. The lack of love and care is staggering. I haven’t received 10% of the cards I should have in my childhood. Even with my nephew. I will not make a pass mark in terms of cards, but I can sure as hell not fail going forward. I did always call, but I’m holding myself to the same standards as I do my aunts and uncles, seeing as I am now coming to the same age as they were when they were failing me.
Meanwhile its not all doom and gloom. I do have people who love me. I had a “grandma from Deptford” who met me around 10 and emigrated when I was about 25, between those years, despite me moving away at 13, she remembered my birthday EVERY YEAR. Not one drop of blood relation, but she remembered my birthday. She’d cook jollofrice for me anytime she made it for her own biological grandson. So I was her granddaughter in all but biology. My aunts Claudia and Theresa, until they died remembered my birthday.
Consistency, I am coming to appreciate, is what shows love.
So to my beloved nephew, I am so proud of you, you are a decent, kindly young gentleman in the making, but if I want to be part of your story, I need to earn my place.
To my family, its already too late. Don’t even bother. I’m too young to care and to old to be insulted.
Grandad Claudius. I love you. Thank you for thinking of me, it meant more than you know. You were the only consistent man in my life. Thank you for showing me what love is, even in your own small way, from far away. Rest easy, King Grosvenor.
Grace and Courage.
Annetta Mother Smith.
P.S. The black man in that photograph is NOT my grandfather.