The other day my grandpa was at my house when I drove home with my little brother. I knew he'd be there; my grandma gave me a heads-up before I left. I've already told you that I stopped working with him and why. I'm not ready to work with him again. He's not able to help me with my depression.
But I walked into my bag yard, greeted him, and hugged him. He may not have the empathy that I need, but I still love my grandpa. He isn't constantly trying to hurt me. He wants me to be better, but his way of trying to help is ineffective. I don't think that I should stop caring for him completely because of those things. After all, it doesn't hurt me to give him a hug. It helps him when I do.
I'm not talking with him. I know that I'll inevitably be hurt. But I think that what I did is enough. He can dismiss the idea that I'm angry at him. He doesn't have to worry that I don't want to ever see him. That's all I can do, and that's what I will do. When I see him, I'll greet him, and I'll embrace him.
I wish that you could give me at least that much.
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