My grandfather is the case that baffles me the most:
He and my grandmother were married 19 years when they split sometime in the second half of 1967 or early 1968. They split only when she found out that he was having an affair. Earlier that same year, I have a picture of them from my aunt’s senior prom. He and my grandmother were randomly selected to be chaperons. In the photo my grandfather has his arm tight around my grandmother and she’s smiling broadly. You wouldn’t think there was anything wrong, and his body language doesn’t suggest a man who wants nothing to do with the woman next to him.
The details of what happened next, and in the next couple of years are hazy, likely because it’s been blocked out. I only know the story of how his affair was discovered, how my grandmother confronted him, and what happened a few years later.
My mother so blocked out this time period that in her mind, she was much younger than she actually was when it happened. They split up when she was 13. She always claimed it happened when she was 9 or 10. When I showed her the picture of my grandparents arm in arm in May or June 1967, she was shocked. She had no memory of my grandfather ever having his arms around my grandma. She was shocked that they were still together at that late date. She totally blocked out the period. There is a home movie from September 1967 with her and my grandfather and others and she had no recollection of being there. That period to her is so blocked out that in her head.
She only recalls that part of her chores was cashing the weekly check from her father that would come in the mail after he left.
So, I have no idea how it went from him being a loving husband and father to my mother claiming she didn’t see him again until my aunt’s wedding in 1972.
This is borne out by the fact that by 1972 my grandmother had moved on with the guy she’d spent the next 20 odd years with. And also, I have my mother’s school transcripts. In 1968, my grandfather is listed as one of her parents. In 1969, only my grandmother is listed.
My grandfather suffered a stroke in April 1973. While not debilitating, he needed to retire because of it. My aunt, whose wedding he attended the year previous, took him home with her, and then they moved back to my grandmother’s house together in late 1973, at my grandmother’s suggestion - that way they could look after him.
He moved into what was once a storage room in the house. My grandmother lived on the first floor and her boyfriend would sometimes come over and spend the night (he lived up the block). When my uncle made confirmation in March 1974, he chose her boyfriend to be his sponsor.
My mother has quite a few memories of her father after he moved back home. She remembers a morose, depressed man who was convinced he would die there (and he did of a second stroke). She would visit upstairs and speak with him. He was bullied by my aunt verbally. She has quite a few anecdotes of him from this period. She relays that my grandmother was nicer to him than he was to her. She doesn’t recall ANYTHING about any holidays or things done together as a family in this murky 70s period.
My grandmother only would relay how she never got an apology, and how one time she cashed his check for him. Which seems odd for a (separated) wife to do.
My aunt recalls he would watch her son every day. My uncle, who was then around 9 or 10, recalls he would go upstairs and watch OTB and wrestling with him, but outside of him asking casual questions ala “How was school?” they didn’t connect much.
Yet, in all the photos of that period where he lived back home - 1973 until his death in 1975 - he’s nowhere to be found. Not at a single family event. Nothing. Only one photo with my sister.
It must’ve been such a very awkward, weird, strange period. A father who had abandoned his daughters when they were teenagers was now back home with them, but it wasn’t really a family. Their mother shacking up once in a while with a guy who wasn’t their stepfather. My grandfather living in a storage room in the house he bought. Probably was awkward for him too.
The late 1960s-mid 70s in my family’s history are such a bizarre, sad, murky time that doesn’t seem to be remembered much.