ancestral mechanics
Examining paradoxical gratitude
Honoring ancestors is generally a happy time. But, what about ancestors with bad reputations? Is honoring still the word?
My paternal grandfather was a horrible man (domestic violence, sexual abuse1). He was a gifted auto mechanic, an amateur boxer, and an abusive drunk. He died when I was around 2 years old. I am told he adored me and he was gentle around me, which amazed everyone.
I do not have my own memories of Grandpa. In childhood, I was conditioned to hate him through my father’s telling of macabre stories. People feared him.
I wonder, did I fear him also? Do I fear him now?
I don’t. Here’s why.
Recently when an engine wouldn’t start, my spontaneous outburst of “HELP. I need an ancestor who was a mechanic” produced an immediate result: I knew2 Grandpa was with me. And I felt nothing but gratitude. No fear. No sense of being unsafe. In that moment, I felt only relief that an ancestral mechanic was willing to assist. I took a few slow, deep breaths … and turned the key.
The engine sounds were promising. The second try gave A FULL, STRONG VROOM! I shouted my thanks with a hearty “Grandpaaa - thank yoooou!”
Soon after, I wondered: is thanking similar to honoring?
Immediately, a story of Grandpa surfaced in my memory: he saved a tree.
Grandpa built the family home by hand. I remember the small home’s simple, cinder-block outer walls with adjoining courtyard. According to the story, when space for the back patio was being cleared, Grandpa indicated that one sapling would remain in place … that he intended to build a short, planter-style container around it so the tree would shade the patio one day. The plan worked — I recall playing under the mature shade tree when I was a small child.
Are there other simple, non-violent Grandpa stories locked away in family memory? In the past, when I’ve asked family members about him, a chilling energy fills the room, the subject is changed, and I am left with shame and late night rumination …
Did my question revive unspeakable memories?
Has (generations of) burying family truth caused damage to downstream generations? (Based on comparing notes with family, the answer is 100% YES.) Is my/our generation complicit if we allow the truth to stay buried?
Is it possible to balance the bad with the good? There must be more than one positive story … should I ask differently to uncover the good?
So many questions. Also, being practical … he has been dead nearly 60 years. His children, grandchildren (my generation), great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren have managed without the information being in the open so far. Good conversation to have with siblings and cousins at a future gathering.
Meanwhile, Grandpa is with me when I need to start an uncooperative engine. I honor him by asking for his help. I know, whenever I do, Grandpa has my back.
I am grateful.
These topics deserve careful attention … in time.
How did I know Grandpa was with me? Because Grandma told me. Yeah, I know that raises more questions … to be covered in future post.