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Rhyan Healey
Mrs. Jackie Burr, Instructor
English 1010, Section 7
6th October, 2016
Serious Gran-Daddy Issues
Ive never before realized that some of the most excruciating pain can spawn from loved
ones. Under no circumstances would I ever think my family structure could be rocked by an
unknown so forceful, it could literally break apart a bloodline. Years of irreplaceable moments
with my Grandfather and Grandmother filled my childhood and left me with admiration and
pride for my Grandpa.
My mother, only recently, dove into the depths of her mind to retrieve years of repressed
memories and has revealed to me truth of her childhood.
My Dzia Dzia and Abuela, Dzia Dzia stemming from Polish meaning Grandpa and
Abuela translating to Grandma in Spanish, immigrated from Uruguay in 1965, when my mother,
youthful and still fairly new to the world, was only three years old. Undergoing the shifting
responsibilities and added weight of becoming a teenager, she had quite a normal childhood,
with parents deriving from the children should be spoken to and not heard era. I honestly
cherish every memory she has shared with me, describing in detail every character choice to
ultimately build up the woman who is my mother. While I witness her eyes brighten and expose
the soul through the reliving of her memories, I cant help but think an unknown is still not
present to me, still a mystery that yearns to be uncovered.
I have spent many untold nights, perceptive yet disarranged, questioning what I should
think of the matter of the situation. Probing my mother thrust my emotions into a whirlwind

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when I inquired about her relationship with her father - emotional abandonment tightly wrapped
with neglect, only revealing itself in extreme mood-swings from my grandfather. Ive discussed
with my mother how exactly this came about, with me only remembering love and affection
from my dzia dzia.
Dumbfounded and at a loss for words, I immediately realized my ignorant mistake.
Grandma Virginia, my step-grandma and my mother, utterly despise one another. Similar to
snakes, each one coils up tightly and spits harsh venom from their tongues, aware of the damage
that can be done, biting any unlucky bystander and transforming healthy relationships into barely
existent. Because of the pride in my grandmothers heart, she revels in the fact that she can pass
pain throughout the family, wearing a disguise that hides her true intentions until its too late.
Never had I once had an inadequate time while visiting my dzia dzia, however I have
always had the luxury of never knowing the open wounds lying below the surface. I visited their
house in Florida this past summer, and I had nothing but a positive time. There I did learn that
grandfather had somewhat of an unpleasant childhood, not bound by poverty or lack of
reputation, but by severe bias, receiving very little sentiment from his mother compared to older
sister. In my mind, its been a roller coaster, knowing that circumstances like these do not justify
the same treatment to later generations, also having to understand that accepting an insufficient
amount of love was his perception of affection his entire childhood. I have such deep devotion to
my loved ones, repeatedly doing whatever I can to protect them from any suffering. Knowing
that I have to watch the relationship with my dzia dzia and mother fall apart, opens up an
indescribable amount of pain in my soul.
As I gotten older, Ive been able to see the true colors of my relatives start to appear.
What I thought was shrouded in love, was actually covered with barbed wire and prickly thorns,

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bearing a keep out sign. I have struggled deeply with the fact that my mother is no longer
allowed at my grandfathers house, even me, almost barred from visiting. It is what it is, I
suppose, accepting this truth as easily as a child swallowing dreadful cough medicine.
Never let a problem to be solved become more important than a person to be
loved.- Henry B. Eyring
It pains me to reflect on this ongoing situation, but in a way, reflection is almost
therapeutic, by understanding whats going on in my mind can I then find peace and
solace. My strong belief is that everything happens for a reason, having nothing happen
just for chance. One thing Im absolutely confident with is that this situation with my
mother and grandparents has given me a skin that is that much tougher. I realize no single
family is perfect, all bombarded with baggage of their own, which helps me to recognize
that I am never alone in my endeavors.
Staying seeing the world through rose-colored glasses almost seems naive to me,
to blind myself to the actuality in front of me, however a small sliver of my being
desperately reaches for a bubble-wrapped, sugar-coated veil, as almost to say it never
happened. As far as my memories, they will remain pristine behind a glass case in my
mind, to remain there always untouched and remembered the way they should be.