Hurting Cecilia: A Lesson for Grandmom

Big, large tears spilled over the eyelids of my 8-year-old granddaughter. I had hurt her feelings.

I thought apologizing would dry up the tears and allow us to continue our joyful connection. I was wrong.

She cried.

She tried to hold in the tears and the pain and choke the anguish rising in her throat for more than 10 minutes. It was to no avail. Her soul needed to express itself.

I cried too.

Many times I had heard that my spontaneous yelling hurt those who received the words. But this time was different. I saw her face. Over a short period of time, I saw and felt the pain of what I had done.

I cried too.

How could I fix this?

You know that moment when words will not suffice? It was one of those moments.

I laid my grandmotherly fingers over her small, light-skinned hands, crossed like a lady on her lap, and silently prayed. Others had hurt her too.

Those tears were a release.

Siblings, parents, friends, teachers…who knows how much she held inside her tiny heart and head as those tears flowed. They were an expression of the hurt and pain and slights and overlooked moments of her life.

I felt her pain and remembered mine.

Therapy

A few months prior my therapist had asked me, “Who comforted you when you were a child?”

I paused to reflect amidst my tear-strained face.

“No one,” I responded.

“Oh, Michelle,” she said.

That night, with my granddaughter watching, I cried for me too.

For all the times I could and could not remember being hurt and having no one to hug me, listen to me or acknowledge the pain in my heart, I cried.

I thought about the clarinet being taken from me because my sister wanted to play, and the times I sat in anguish about some extreme punishment for, what I considered, a small mistake. I cried. I thought about the times my father had screamed at me, as I had done to her, and how confused I felt as a little girl.

Oh…what had I done, I wondered.

How can I fix this?

Change.

Truly change the way I responded to child-like behavior displayed by one of my grandchildren that catches me off guard. Change. Practice mindful self-controlled speech and grace.

A Facebook memory was recently reposted on my page and I showed it to her. Once her breathing returned to normal and the water wells ran dry, I showed her how much she means to me.

The FB post was an image of the two of us.

She responded by curling the corners of her mouth into a smile.

I asked her, “Did we get through this together?” She nodded her head.

“I never saw you cry,” she said.

What she didn’t know is Prozac helps me keep those tears at bay.

“I cry when someone is dear to my heart. You are dear to my heart, and I hurt you. Do you forgive me?”                                      

She said, “Yes,” and we embraced again.

That experience was huge for me. Hopefully, it will help me change.