Nothing Cures Grief Faster Than...
Being Psycho Pissed Off.
I had never met my brother's other sister. She is about my age and I was always curious about her. I was introduced to her and her husband and they were very nice. I (who always cover most negative emotions with either humour or sarcasm, or sometimes both) said to her "I am that little sister they don't tell you about." And we both laughed, because it was meant to be funny and cover the obvious discomfort of 'we have shared three brothers our whole lives and never met until now.' I did not realize my words were prophetic.
We filed into the funeral (held at the county fairgrounds, and the temptation to wear biboveralls was immense, but I resisted. Turns out it wouldn't have mattered...) and I was sitting behind my brother Roger and next to LarryAnn (the newly met other sister) and her husband.
Insert long boring preacher crap here, including that the preacher had never fucking met Ronnie. Gah. Then the preacher says "Ronnie was survived by his parents Larry and MaryJo blah, his wife and kids blah, his brother Chuck blah, his brother Roger blah, his sister LarryAnn and her husband blah and leaves a big hole in this community.
What?
I mean excuse me, WHAT?
He had a father who preceded him in death and a sister, not to mention, HELLO! TWO FUCKING SISTERS thankyouverymuch. I am pretty sure nobody bothered to tell Laurie that Ronnie died. And I don't have a current address for her, so I have no idea how to get a hold of her to tell her, but what does it matter, since we are so much unwanted history anyway, right?
Oh, psycho pissed off.
And as I am sitting outside (after the ceremony, I DID NOT get up in the middle and leave, as strong as the urge was to do so, my mother raised me better than that) my cousin's wife comes by and asks me how I am doing. What the fuck, how do you think I am doing? Once again my family has run true to form and dissed me publicly and very very thoroughly. I am fine fuck you very much for asking. She proceeds to light into me for being a sarcastic bitch and before she can finish I put her in her place and explained that my mother, unlike theirs, raised me better than to be bitchy and sarcastic to their faces at a time like this and in any case I am well aware that my late brother's wife is the bitch responsible for the latest in a long line of family discord, thanks. This is a woman who actually crossed the street to avoid saying hello to my mother and me, this is the woman that had Ronnie cremated and didn't tell Roger or Chuck until after the fact. She is a piece and a half of work, I'm sayin'. She fits in well with them.
On the other hand, Chuck's wife was as sweet as she ever was. She asked after my mom and stepdad, she asked after my sisters. She was always nice and I expect always will be. That is a nice thing.
My brother was a Mason, a fact I did not know until now. After the horror of the preacher-that-never-met-him, they did their thing. It was beautiful. First because these were men who actually knew my brother, could speak from personal experience of what he was like. Second because the Pagan Mystic Chick in me digs the ceremony and spirituality that was so very obvious in their programme and so very lacking in that of the preacher-of-not-knowing. Yeah, I am a sucker for the freaky-deaky mystic stuff. That made some of the pissed-offedness go away, if briefly.
I liked seeing my Aunt and Uncle and my other Aunt and Uncle and my cousin's little baby who is one year old now and cute as a button and such a happy baby, you just can't not smile at her. And my remaining brothers were good to see, though Chuck is a carbon copy of our dad and just a couple years younger now than dad was when he died so seeing him along side Uncle Pork (a carbon copy of dad and the age he would be now) was just a touch creepy. And seeing my cousin Vicki was equally creepy because OHMYGOD she is the spittin' image of Gramma Tic, and that is NOT A GOOD THING! My mother assures me that while I look like my dad, I do not look like my grandmother.
I went and stayed with my mom for a couple nights and had a very nice time. I spent last evening with my sister and niece watching Constantine, which I enjoyed. (ok, ok, not a fan of Keanu, but I did like the movie, alternate ending better than the one used I think.) Then we watched videos of My Chemical Romance because my sister likes the lead singer. (squishy cheeks!)
I know who my family is. A whole big bunch of them are not related to me by blood, and that makes us value one another that much more.
I had never met my brother's other sister. She is about my age and I was always curious about her. I was introduced to her and her husband and they were very nice. I (who always cover most negative emotions with either humour or sarcasm, or sometimes both) said to her "I am that little sister they don't tell you about." And we both laughed, because it was meant to be funny and cover the obvious discomfort of 'we have shared three brothers our whole lives and never met until now.' I did not realize my words were prophetic.
We filed into the funeral (held at the county fairgrounds, and the temptation to wear biboveralls was immense, but I resisted. Turns out it wouldn't have mattered...) and I was sitting behind my brother Roger and next to LarryAnn (the newly met other sister) and her husband.
Insert long boring preacher crap here, including that the preacher had never fucking met Ronnie. Gah. Then the preacher says "Ronnie was survived by his parents Larry and MaryJo blah, his wife and kids blah, his brother Chuck blah, his brother Roger blah, his sister LarryAnn and her husband blah and leaves a big hole in this community.
What?
I mean excuse me, WHAT?
He had a father who preceded him in death and a sister, not to mention, HELLO! TWO FUCKING SISTERS thankyouverymuch. I am pretty sure nobody bothered to tell Laurie that Ronnie died. And I don't have a current address for her, so I have no idea how to get a hold of her to tell her, but what does it matter, since we are so much unwanted history anyway, right?
Oh, psycho pissed off.
And as I am sitting outside (after the ceremony, I DID NOT get up in the middle and leave, as strong as the urge was to do so, my mother raised me better than that) my cousin's wife comes by and asks me how I am doing. What the fuck, how do you think I am doing? Once again my family has run true to form and dissed me publicly and very very thoroughly. I am fine fuck you very much for asking. She proceeds to light into me for being a sarcastic bitch and before she can finish I put her in her place and explained that my mother, unlike theirs, raised me better than to be bitchy and sarcastic to their faces at a time like this and in any case I am well aware that my late brother's wife is the bitch responsible for the latest in a long line of family discord, thanks. This is a woman who actually crossed the street to avoid saying hello to my mother and me, this is the woman that had Ronnie cremated and didn't tell Roger or Chuck until after the fact. She is a piece and a half of work, I'm sayin'. She fits in well with them.
On the other hand, Chuck's wife was as sweet as she ever was. She asked after my mom and stepdad, she asked after my sisters. She was always nice and I expect always will be. That is a nice thing.
My brother was a Mason, a fact I did not know until now. After the horror of the preacher-that-never-met-him, they did their thing. It was beautiful. First because these were men who actually knew my brother, could speak from personal experience of what he was like. Second because the Pagan Mystic Chick in me digs the ceremony and spirituality that was so very obvious in their programme and so very lacking in that of the preacher-of-not-knowing. Yeah, I am a sucker for the freaky-deaky mystic stuff. That made some of the pissed-offedness go away, if briefly.
I liked seeing my Aunt and Uncle and my other Aunt and Uncle and my cousin's little baby who is one year old now and cute as a button and such a happy baby, you just can't not smile at her. And my remaining brothers were good to see, though Chuck is a carbon copy of our dad and just a couple years younger now than dad was when he died so seeing him along side Uncle Pork (a carbon copy of dad and the age he would be now) was just a touch creepy. And seeing my cousin Vicki was equally creepy because OHMYGOD she is the spittin' image of Gramma Tic, and that is NOT A GOOD THING! My mother assures me that while I look like my dad, I do not look like my grandmother.
I went and stayed with my mom for a couple nights and had a very nice time. I spent last evening with my sister and niece watching Constantine, which I enjoyed. (ok, ok, not a fan of Keanu, but I did like the movie, alternate ending better than the one used I think.) Then we watched videos of My Chemical Romance because my sister likes the lead singer. (squishy cheeks!)
I know who my family is. A whole big bunch of them are not related to me by blood, and that makes us value one another that much more.