Nonsense

Saying a little less than nothing I take my leave. He’d gone on a ten minute tirade spewing profanity and racial slurs in spanish and still I’d kept up the front that I didn’t understand.

My potential father in law was a heavy drinker who didn’t waste time caring for himself so every Friday I’d stop by to clean his apartment and make him a warm meal; either tacos or fettuccini alfredo, his favorites.

At first it didn’t bother me that he hated my skin color. I figured that maybe he’d had bad experiences that led him to confuse race with character. I also figured that if I loved him as he was that somehow he’d just accept me as I was.

Grandma taught me it was okay to love people that didn’t know how to love in return, even if it hurts.

But after a few years it started to bother me and the hopeful energy I’d taken every week dissipated until all I could do was face the truth. He’d never like let alone accept or love me for who I was, for who his son had chosen to love. He taught me that family matters in relationships and how on occasion they can be the ones to enable breaking it or support keeping it together.

His son and I didn’t make it and though he wasn’t the main reason he was certainly one of the contributing forces. I’ve experienced threads of racism throughout life but none so heartbreaking as with him.

Grandma experienced more of life than me so I still trust that it’s okay to love people that don’t know how to love in return. For all I know, I might be the latter.