I Saw A in Journal

dead man on the way to grandma’s house today.
We were just coming over a bridge and saw a few cars being waved back, so stopped to turn down the nearest road (DH was driving). As we turned, I glanced up the road to see why they were turning people back- and it was right there. A laid down motorcycle, and a man in the road in a shape that left no possibility of him being alive.
I felt sick after seeing that.. I wish I hadn’t looked. He could have been anybody, going anywhere, or from anyplace.

Grandmas was… Disappointing. We were there for just about 2 hours, and managed to talk about nothing at all.
Grandma seemed happy that we are expecting but asked, “why the secrecy?” To which we responded “nobody asked.” And I don’t just mean nobody asked, but nobody even so much as sent a text message or phone call in all that time. It’s like if we decided to just respond instead of be proactive, we wouldn’t really exist to them.
Her response was equally uncompelling. “You get into trouble for asking these days,” she said lamely. I don’t suppose that even warranted a response. Maybe asking a stranger would be uncomfortable and awkward. But someone who is part of your family? Who you supposedly care about and love? What social discomfort would stop me from pursuing a loved ones state of mind or life changes?
Nothing. That’s kind of the point of love. Or so I thought.

And that’s where the disappoinment stems from. DH doesn’t have a clear idea of who his family is, and tends to idealize them to himself and to others. So that meeting them is just expectations dashed one after another.
Gma also expressed a lot of sympathy for BM and “what she has to deal with”. I didn’t say anything, again. What is there to say?

I think that there are only 2 kinda of people. People who operate on their subjective please pain principle (PPP) and people who have an external validation to some objective principle. One may always trust that a PPP type will only ever fail to provide quality to a relationship.