What I can't tell my family

Note: Some of this is kept vague in order to keep identities hidden, which is why some titles are repeated.

Grandma:

You will not live to see the full extent of the hell you have helped create.

You are blind to struggles of those around you, deaf to the plight of those who beg you for help. You would rather take leave of your senses than admit, even for a moment, that you might have made a mistake.

I don't even blame you. Not fully. You are used to the control of angry men. You think you must swallow whatever they give you, so long as they dress it the right way.

I almost wish, for your sake, that you had never led to my creation. That you had traveled as you wanted. That you had created your own life, instead of allowing your husband to direct one for you.

Grandpa: You would hate what's happening right now, I think. I wish I could call you. I know you were miserable. I'm sorry I didn't help more, but you were so angry. You should have had help. You didn't want what you needed. I wish it could have been better, but your caretakers didn't deserve your outrage.

Grandma:

I wish I could go back to the days when I was happy to watch cartoons and eat mac n cheese. I do not know who lied to you, but they lied. I do not know why you would believe them. I do not know how to fix it. I do not want to be the one to fix it. I wish you would listen to someone else.

Grandpa: I'm glad you're dead. I'm glad you couldn't vote for him. I don't understand how the people who taught me about ethics could ever think that man is a good person.

Dad:

You used my "history" against me when I was still a child, and now you think nothing of supporting a man who has repeatedly lied. You told me to stay inside, to not walk alone for fear of offenders, and yet you believe in one. You say you want to help, then you help uphold the system that sabotages me at every turn. You have voted, time and again, to destroy my future.

How is this in line with what you told me you believe?

People are dying. The man in charge of our healthcare doesn't even think I'm a person. He thinks a diagnosis means you're incapable of functioning as a human being.

People are being accosted in the street, brutalized, captured, carted away to prison camps, denied due process, dismissed and belittled when they say anything about any of those things.

I am not too angry. I have spared so many so much of my anger. Those who deserve it have not seen the full brunt.

Mom:

I don't have a home anymore. I haven't for a long time. I wish I had a mother who could comfort me. I wish you'd had someone to tell you that you don't need to cling to dogma and call it doctrine.

I can't follow you anymore. I am not safe with you. I wish I were.

Sister:

I don't believe in the same things we grew up believing. Do you?

Cousin:

I'm sorry I didn't say anything when you were grieving. You didn't say anything when I was grieving. I know the grief is not the same. I think you might accept me if I told you who I am. I don't think I ever will.