Fairy Dust

I’ve been going through some growing pains recently. I turned twenty-one, my childhood dog just died, and I’ve been going through a breakup. Thoughtfully, my uncle reached out to me and tried to offer me solace. “Life is hard. Only Nee believes in fairy dust”, he said. Nee is my grandmother. And she really does believe in fairy dust. 

My grandmother does not view herself as radical in any way but I’d argue that she’s a radical optimist. She refuses negativity any shelter in her mind. I’m not sure she even believes that it exists. You could tell her the sun is going to swallow the earth whole tomorrow and she’d say “It’ll be nice to get some sun”.

This trait may seem laudable but in truth, I have always resented it about her. I resent that she can so easily deny the existence of pain. I resent that her world lacks any contrast and everything is bright yellow. I resent that “things could always be worse”. 

While I have spent much of my life resenting this trait in my grandmother, I must admit that I have begun to adopt it myself. I belittle my own pain. I tell people devastating stories from my childhood and then I’ll laugh and say, “It is what it is”. I hardly ever cry anymore. 

I have always been a person that feels everything so deeply and while it is something I love about myself, it is exhausting. It is just too much for one person to feel everything. I always thought my grandmother was making a great sacrifice by choosing not to feel everything. I realize now that she was only preserving herself. 

I suppose I have always viewed my grandmother as sacrificing herself. She is always trying to give stuff away. She’ll buy something nice for herself and then give it to her friend because they said they liked it. She’ll cook dinner for everyone while she eats potato chips. She’ll give you her last cough drop even though she has chronic bronchitis. This sounds sweet but it did not fit my portrait of a strong woman. A strong woman said no. A strong woman never sacrificed herself. A strong woman honored her pain. 

My grandmother may not have been what I considered to be a strong woman when I was growing up but she is the strongest woman I know. I always thought it was sad that she was always so willing to give her things away but I understand now that only a woman who is whole could give so easily. Her life has been filled with pain and violence and still, she believes in fairy dust. I can’t imagine a woman stronger. 

Nee, if you’re reading this, thank you for the magic.