This post isn’t going to be anything terribly wisdomful, but I just want to say how much it sucks to do the next right thing.
I’m not going to my grandfather’s birthday party this weekend. This is likely to be my grandfather’s last birthday, but I’m not going. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to see him before he passes.
A big part of why I’m not going is because it’s four hours from where I live and I can’t afford to just bounce if it gets to be too much. I wouldn’t even have my car were I to go because I’d be carpooling with my family. But a larger contribution is that I don’t want my memories of my grandfather to be tainted by the reality of today. I want to remember sailing with my grandfather, or following the sailboat races in a Boston Whaler, or shooting the potato gun at the island, or, or, or…
I know it’s better that I not go. It’s healthier for me to not go. Ultimately it’ll be safer for me to not go. But there’s still the large part of me yelling, “Why aren’t you going to see your grandfather for his last birthday?!” But I know the better, the safer, choice is for me to not go somewhere I don’t have an out.
I also don’t want to have the wonderful memories of my Grandfather I’ve accumulated over the past 31 years buried by one day’s experience of seeing my grandfather end of life.
Not going is the right choice. On so many levels it’s the right choice. Then there’s the part of me that feels like it’s entirely the wrong choice. And that karma is, again, going to come kick my ass.
I just wish doing the next right thing didn’t hurt so much. Didn’t hurt my loved ones so much. Didn’t hurt me so much.