Old Grandfather? New Grandmother?

I know, I know. I shouldn't be writing about anything other than my vacation because I owe you all the details on that. But I'm just not feeling writing about it today. Perhaps tomorrow?

Anyways. I've had something weighing on my mind for a few weeks. I think I started thinking about it around the time my mom and sister went to dinner with a certain person.

I am hoping that the topic on which I am about to write doesn't offend anyone, especially the person I am writing about based on my own personal experiences. But I can't sugar coat it and I can't go along as if it's never happened. That's just not the way I work. So, my apologies in advance if this post hurts the feelings of anyone. That is not my intention, but I understand that it is a possibility.

When I was little, living in California, we used to have a huge Christmas celebration every year. On Christmas Eve we would drive an hour or so to see my Poppa's side of the family. We would see our Grandma, our aunts and uncles, and our cousins and have a great evening. We'd have a wonderful dinner, open gifts and sit around playing cards or chickenfoot (a dominoes game) for hours.

On Christmas morning, my brother and sister were instructed to come and wake me up. I was old enough to tell time and I wasn't to let them out until a decent hour (somewhere around 7:30 or 8). Alright, cool, so I always had them jumping on me and going crazy around 6 in the morning. Thanks parents. *eye roll*

Well, on Christmas morning we were always joined by my Mom's father and brother. My grandparents had been divorced for years, but they were still kind to each other for the sake of their children and the sake of their grandchildren. It wasn't all that often that we got to see our grandfather, so we enjoyed the time we had.

My freshman year of high school my parents gave me an early Christmas present. They took me to a Shania Twain concert, but it was two weeks before Christmas. I'll never forget our drive to the concert because it caused my head to spin.

My parents chose this particular car ride to talk to me about my grandfather. My grandfather would not be joining us for Christmas that year. He would not be allowed to join us for Christmas that year because he had decided to start dressing like a woman.

Being 14 years old, already having a hard enough time with my own life, this was not something I could easily wrap my head around. I told them I understood why he wasn't joining us and said I was glad because I didn't think that I could deal with it, and especially not my two younger siblings who were 11 and 9 at the time.

Did I really understand? Well, sort of. I did understand why he wasn't joining us. But I didn't understand where the heck all of this had come from! I couldn't begin to imagine why someone would want to be different than what they were. I couldn't understand why a man would want to dress like a woman. It was so completely confusing to me. But I didn't want to talk about it, so I just let it go.

And I let it go for years. But when I was 16, at the end of my pregnancy, I had a cat I knew I couldn't keep. Gramma was already allergic to the cat and having him around the new baby just didn't seem like a good idea. I needed somewhere for my cat to go.

My grandfather offered to take him for me. I was more than willing to let him have my cat, he had a great track record with cats previously. So everything was set up and Rocky was going to a good new home. All I had to do was meet my grandfather.

Except he wasn't really my grandfather anymore, was he? Maybe he was? I knew he wouldn't look like my grandfather anymore. I knew he had long hair, and that he wore make up and dressed in women's clothes. But was he still my grandfather? What was I supposed to call him? I was seriously nervous about this meeting.

The day came for him to pick up Rocky. He showed up on the doorstep, we let him in and I really just didn't know what to do. It became formal and stiff and tense very quickly and I think the entire exchange lasted no more than ten minutes. It was just long enough for me to find the cat, put him in his crate, and pass off all of his belongings. It was also just long enough for me to feel just a little freaked out.

When he left, my Gramma and I just kind of looked at each other, shrugged, and went about our day. We didn't want to let the weirdness ruin our plans or whatever we had going on so we just didn't talk about it. Maybe that wasn't the best idea, because here I am writing about it seven and a half years later, but it worked for us at the time.

I haven't seen my grandfather since then. We talk occasionally on Facebook, but it's mostly through comments on various statuses and such. I know he has since had gender re-assignment surgery. He has also taken on a new name. I have to say it's kind of weird when I get a Christmas card, knowing it's from him, but having the signature be a woman's name. It's getting easier, as time goes by, to know that it's going to be signed differently and that my grandfather is, essentially, gone. But it's still just a little weird.

I still don't understand what would make a person want to change themselves so drastically. Maybe someday I should ask... Him? Her? See, I still have problems trying to figure out how this all works. I know that I had a Grandpa. And I know that I don't technically have a Grandpa anymore. But the person who was my Grandpa is still alive, just under a different name and gender. So does that mean I have another Grandma?

No, I don't think so.

Even at nearly 24 years old, trying to put all of the pieces together is just too confusing sometimes. My sister, who just turned 21, finds it easy. She's very clear that he isn't who he was and now he is a she and her name is L___. But it's just not that easy for me, I guess.

I wonder if there's anything I can do to change it? I'm trying to work it out in my head to feel more at peace and comfortable with his decision to become a her. But I don't quite know how to go about it. I almost feel like I'm disrespecting him because I can't just make it happen like magic. But at the same time I feel like it was almost disrespectful to our family to undergo this change and cause such a huge emotional upheaval.

Now, having said all of this, I have no issues whatsoever with the transgender or transsexual community. They are just as much a part of our world as anyone else.

It's just taking longer for me to adjust to it with the situation being so personal and close to my heart.

I suppose I haven't learned much or gained much from writing about this. I do feel more at ease having written it, though, and maybe this was just the beginning of the process. Maybe this will make it easier for me to accept, understand and know the new person who used to be my grandfather. Or, maybe I'll spend a few more years being utterly confused and wishing I understood.

Who knows.