Loyalty, Guilt, and Obligation.

I apologize for my absence. I pretty much checked out of life a while back. I have been struggle with some heavy shit recently, and finally feel the need to put it out there.

Background:

I lived in Vermont for 26 years. I was born and raised in those Green Mountains where everyone knows each other and flatlanders are only tolerated because they inject needed funds into the economy. I always enjoyed being a big fish in a little pond. Knowing I was smarter than the people around me made me feel like I had something going for me. I dropped out of high school and got my GED was I was 16 – planning to go to college a full two years before my classmates. As it turns out, life had other plans. Flash forward 10 years and a classmate of mine from the school I went to get my GED came up from CT to visit me. *cue romance* 6 months later I moved to CT with my children in tow to make a life with him.

That was ~14 months ago.

Present Day:

I received an email from my grandmother on Monday telling me she had left a pot cooking unattended on her stove to go shopping with a friend. Needless to say, she almost burned her apartment down. The stove/hood/and cabinet are all ruined. Thankfully a neighbor called 911 and they were able to get the fire out before she was left homeless. But now I am having a moral dilemma.

More Background:

My mother is a heroin addict. My father is a highly abuse alcoholic. Growing up my grandmother was my saving grace. She brought us (my sister and I) food when we had none, and took us overnight when my father was in a rage. If we called her – she was ALWAYS there. Always. She was the one constant in my entire life, and the only person, other than myself, I knew I could always count on. When I turned 13, I disowned my father. I left in the middle of the night and have not spoken to him since. Unfortunately, not long after that my mother devolved to the point where she could hardly take care of herself – much less a teenage child. I called DCF and asked them to place me in a foster home, to allow my mother to get back on her feet. They said they couldn’t do that. The result was my “big sister” (from the Big Brother, Big Sister program) telling me to pack my stuff in a duffle bag, and call my Gram. She brought me to her house, and told me to never go back.
I didn’t.
My grandmother took me in and drove me an hour to school every single day to keep me in my district until the year was over. After that, she bought a house in the town *I* wanted to live in, a five minute walk to my best friend Megan’s house no less, and put me into the school of my choice. She completely rearranged her ENTIRE life to suit ME, even going so far as to drive me and Megan to school every day.

Present Day:

Now, I am faced with the fact that this incredible women may not be able to live on her own any longer. She has become a danger to herself and to others. So, do I pack up the tidy little life I have built for myself in CT, and move back home to care for her? Or do I let other people shoulder that burden because I am settled two states away? Moving would mean giving up my love, when our relationship has only started, but NOT moving would mean a belly full of guilt every.single.day. Could I live with myself?

I don’t think I could.