Epilogue
So looking back, I last posted on Wednesday, early afternoon... Boy howdy did things go south quickly after that. For starters, it must have been shortly after that that that it occurred to me that I hadn't seen cat Fred Weasley in a little bit... Now, this is not uncommon, but Bailey (the other cat) had been acting really off-the-rails. Fred has always been a little sickly as long as we've had him; he didn't get a good start in life, and while it was perfectly normal for him to go missing for days on end (he's a hider), I just had a feeling that something wasn't right... Yeah. Found him stiff as a board downstairs in the basement. Well shit. So long story short, gathered him up, buried him, you know, all that stuff you need to do. Went to sleep. Got woke up by my phone ringing coming on 10:00 or so. It's my mom. Well shit, I don't have to be a psychic to know what this is gonna be. Yep. Apparently my aunt died about an hour ago. And let's just add insult to injury, I do indeed need to go to work over the next couple days, because I have a deadline due, and mine really is the sort of job where I don't have anyone else who can/would do it if I'm away; it either needs to be done before I leave, or wait until I get back. The latter, incidentally, is not an option. So I was in a fog to say the least; it was extremely satisfying on Friday when I finished the last capital outlay request and submitted the document. Friday night, I had dinner. This doesn't seem like much, but you have to understand that I hadn't eaten anything whatsoever (except three cups of coffee) from Wednesday night onward. And that's not like me. I am not one of those people who gets bad news, gets down, and has no appetite, far from it; I'm the polar opposite. I eat my feelings, and I do it well.
So yeah. Thursday and Friday were a blur, Friday was a wine-night, yesterday was an in bed early night, I actually slept very well, and here we are, Sunday morning. We got the tree yesterday, it needs to be all decorated up yet, and we have got to get our Christmas cards out. I still have to do the Christmas shopping. And figure out what I'm going to do for dinner. And get the house tidied up for same. But I mean... Last year, we had COVID for Christmas. This year, and more in particular, last week, well, it's just been a lot. Too much in fact. They say that the Lord doesn't give you more than you can handle, but seriously, I was pretty close to snapping; it would totally be that one last straw that finally broke me. But time does indeed heal all wounds, and I'm doing better today. Better today than yesterday, not as good as tomorrow, it passes with time. My family, annoyingly, is not big on providing closure for those left behind; we always knew that Grandma wouldn't be having any kind of memorial or anything. Interesting, though; though my Grandpa donated his body as well, we had a do for him, a bit of a wake, a big luncheon, all my friends were there... I wonder if she realized that maybe her projections on funerals weren't necessarily right and just... In her case, well... It's like in A Christmas Carol, where Scrooge realizes that they're selling off all his goods, and nobody gives a shit about him; no service, no memorial, NOBODY misses him because he'd just been such a bastard? Yeah. Like that. The problem is, near as I can figure, anybody who would be sad about my grandma's death either died a long time ago, or she pushed them out of her life a long time ago. It's been a recurring trope with her. And even now, you do a search for her, and there's no obituary, nothing like that. Run a search for my aunt's name, and she comes right up, Stocking funeral home. See, these nice people that went ahead and took her for all she was worth care of her insisted that they'd take care of everything, there was nothing we needed to do... Well, that's the nice version. My mom asked them about something, maybe those arrangements, I don't know, and the response she got was basically fuck off and leave us alone. I put the pictures aside that you wanted as we discussed, please leave us alone for the next couple weeks, WE WOULD LIKE TO ENJOY OUR HOLIDAYS... Oh man... Sure am glad for them that the dying old lady had the good taste to get out of their living room before Christmas; I certainly wouldn't want her cramping their style. Christmas in their new house and all. So we're in limbo... Meanwhile, getting back to that lack of closure thing, come to find out that Diane didn't want any kind of service or anything either. So the only thing we could really hope for is if they do an inurnment (?); there's usually a grave/niche-side service of some sort, I mean, something. But maybe she wanted Mike to scatter her around the back 40, maybe she wanted to sit on the mantelpiece; we really have no idea. Basically, it's just over; it's news that came over the phone a couple days ago. c'est la vie.
Which, I mean, we all deal with this stuff in our own ways. I have to remind myself that good enough has to be sometimes, which is not how I roll, but seriously... The laundry got backed up, the sink was more full of dirty dishes than we ever let it get, I ate rubbish for three days, and then nothing for two... By normal measures, things around here just absolutely fell apart, but then, I have to look at what I DID accomplish... Every morning that I went to work, I bathed, brushed my teeth, shaved, got dressed (not necessarily in that order)... That's something. Apparently all the something I could muster, but it was in fact something. Minimum standards, if you will, but standards nonetheless. That has to be enough sometimes, and it's still something to be proud of. I got down, but I didn't give up. But last night, I called up my mom, after getting the tree, and asked her if her and Kyle wanted to come out with Jenny and I to Boodles, besides having a delicious dinner, and a few good country-club poured Tom Collinses, I figured we could all sit down and, well, just talk. Talk about all of this, talk it out, get it out on the table and out of our heads... Because we're all dealing with a lot. And there's a distinct lack of closure. You want to know something fucked up; I am sitting here right now, and not even 100% convinced that she's dead at all. And no, that's not some kind of denial kicking in, it really is not... It's a lack of closure, and it's also exactly what she would do... Or that nice family that was taking care of her. She found out that Diane was dying and wanted to upstage her. Now that her family has washed their hands of her, she's back in the rehab facility comatose on morphine, while they pick out wallpaper and paint. They're all getting ready for Christmas without any fear of us coming by and meddling... Like, there are plenty of reasons that she might have to fake her death, or even this cancer in the first place; that's exactly the sort of thing that she would do. And it's so messed up, but the most logical, likely explanation "she died peacefully in her sleep after a short battle with cancer", is also the most unbelievable. But getting back to my point, they said no (and we started a phone conversation that could have gone on for hours), and it's like, dammit... Come in person, we talk it out, she did that another time too; I don't remember where we ended up going or what we... oh yeah, we went to the grocery store; I asked, she said no, and then we started in, and I actually said "see, this is exactly the kind of conversation I'm talking about"... In-person. And believe me, I understand it, she's dealing with a lot too, of course she is. We're all dealing with the reconciliation of the fact that we're supposed to feel sad for our grandma/her mom, but instead we feel nothing, or even more over, relief, that she's finally gone and can't hurt us anymore... except for all this head-fucking that she's managing from beyond the unmarked grave. Again, there is a serious amount of context here that needs to be taken into account, because we really aren't monsters or psychopaths. Dammit, we're not the monsters, she was. For years. To everyone. In so many just terrible, disgusting ways.
So, as the days go on, I am feeling better, stronger... Christmas is right around the corner, and we now have "a tree"... A little behind, yeah? But I'm doing the best I can, and again, that has to be enough sometimes... Part of me knows that I need to get to getting with all that stuff, but there's also a part of me that wants to just put on pants and go to my grandma Fran's grave, like, right now... Lot of emotions moving around and along. Lot of stuff that I am going to have to deal with, in my own way, in my own time. And of course, this looming thing where there is going to have to be some kind of reckoning among the stuff at grandma's house... The stuff that is allegedly legally theirs, but they're willing to let us take the things that they don't want, but that doesn't even get discussed for a fortnight, because again, they want to enjoy their holidays. And I'm just not looking forward to any of that. I mean, they're on notice that there are certain things we want; and those might just be the first things they go ahead and sell/throw out if they haven't already. And I don't even want to drive up to that house, let alone go in, let alone deal with those people ever again. So yeah. Fa la la la la, la la la laaaa... I need to fix me something for breakfast/lunch, that's important, it's coming on damn near noon.
So yeah. Thursday and Friday were a blur, Friday was a wine-night, yesterday was an in bed early night, I actually slept very well, and here we are, Sunday morning. We got the tree yesterday, it needs to be all decorated up yet, and we have got to get our Christmas cards out. I still have to do the Christmas shopping. And figure out what I'm going to do for dinner. And get the house tidied up for same. But I mean... Last year, we had COVID for Christmas. This year, and more in particular, last week, well, it's just been a lot. Too much in fact. They say that the Lord doesn't give you more than you can handle, but seriously, I was pretty close to snapping; it would totally be that one last straw that finally broke me. But time does indeed heal all wounds, and I'm doing better today. Better today than yesterday, not as good as tomorrow, it passes with time. My family, annoyingly, is not big on providing closure for those left behind; we always knew that Grandma wouldn't be having any kind of memorial or anything. Interesting, though; though my Grandpa donated his body as well, we had a do for him, a bit of a wake, a big luncheon, all my friends were there... I wonder if she realized that maybe her projections on funerals weren't necessarily right and just... In her case, well... It's like in A Christmas Carol, where Scrooge realizes that they're selling off all his goods, and nobody gives a shit about him; no service, no memorial, NOBODY misses him because he'd just been such a bastard? Yeah. Like that. The problem is, near as I can figure, anybody who would be sad about my grandma's death either died a long time ago, or she pushed them out of her life a long time ago. It's been a recurring trope with her. And even now, you do a search for her, and there's no obituary, nothing like that. Run a search for my aunt's name, and she comes right up, Stocking funeral home. See, these nice people that went ahead and took her for all she was worth care of her insisted that they'd take care of everything, there was nothing we needed to do... Well, that's the nice version. My mom asked them about something, maybe those arrangements, I don't know, and the response she got was basically fuck off and leave us alone. I put the pictures aside that you wanted as we discussed, please leave us alone for the next couple weeks, WE WOULD LIKE TO ENJOY OUR HOLIDAYS... Oh man... Sure am glad for them that the dying old lady had the good taste to get out of their living room before Christmas; I certainly wouldn't want her cramping their style. Christmas in their new house and all. So we're in limbo... Meanwhile, getting back to that lack of closure thing, come to find out that Diane didn't want any kind of service or anything either. So the only thing we could really hope for is if they do an inurnment (?); there's usually a grave/niche-side service of some sort, I mean, something. But maybe she wanted Mike to scatter her around the back 40, maybe she wanted to sit on the mantelpiece; we really have no idea. Basically, it's just over; it's news that came over the phone a couple days ago. c'est la vie.
Which, I mean, we all deal with this stuff in our own ways. I have to remind myself that good enough has to be sometimes, which is not how I roll, but seriously... The laundry got backed up, the sink was more full of dirty dishes than we ever let it get, I ate rubbish for three days, and then nothing for two... By normal measures, things around here just absolutely fell apart, but then, I have to look at what I DID accomplish... Every morning that I went to work, I bathed, brushed my teeth, shaved, got dressed (not necessarily in that order)... That's something. Apparently all the something I could muster, but it was in fact something. Minimum standards, if you will, but standards nonetheless. That has to be enough sometimes, and it's still something to be proud of. I got down, but I didn't give up. But last night, I called up my mom, after getting the tree, and asked her if her and Kyle wanted to come out with Jenny and I to Boodles, besides having a delicious dinner, and a few good country-club poured Tom Collinses, I figured we could all sit down and, well, just talk. Talk about all of this, talk it out, get it out on the table and out of our heads... Because we're all dealing with a lot. And there's a distinct lack of closure. You want to know something fucked up; I am sitting here right now, and not even 100% convinced that she's dead at all. And no, that's not some kind of denial kicking in, it really is not... It's a lack of closure, and it's also exactly what she would do... Or that nice family that was taking care of her. She found out that Diane was dying and wanted to upstage her. Now that her family has washed their hands of her, she's back in the rehab facility comatose on morphine, while they pick out wallpaper and paint. They're all getting ready for Christmas without any fear of us coming by and meddling... Like, there are plenty of reasons that she might have to fake her death, or even this cancer in the first place; that's exactly the sort of thing that she would do. And it's so messed up, but the most logical, likely explanation "she died peacefully in her sleep after a short battle with cancer", is also the most unbelievable. But getting back to my point, they said no (and we started a phone conversation that could have gone on for hours), and it's like, dammit... Come in person, we talk it out, she did that another time too; I don't remember where we ended up going or what we... oh yeah, we went to the grocery store; I asked, she said no, and then we started in, and I actually said "see, this is exactly the kind of conversation I'm talking about"... In-person. And believe me, I understand it, she's dealing with a lot too, of course she is. We're all dealing with the reconciliation of the fact that we're supposed to feel sad for our grandma/her mom, but instead we feel nothing, or even more over, relief, that she's finally gone and can't hurt us anymore... except for all this head-fucking that she's managing from beyond the unmarked grave. Again, there is a serious amount of context here that needs to be taken into account, because we really aren't monsters or psychopaths. Dammit, we're not the monsters, she was. For years. To everyone. In so many just terrible, disgusting ways.
So, as the days go on, I am feeling better, stronger... Christmas is right around the corner, and we now have "a tree"... A little behind, yeah? But I'm doing the best I can, and again, that has to be enough sometimes... Part of me knows that I need to get to getting with all that stuff, but there's also a part of me that wants to just put on pants and go to my grandma Fran's grave, like, right now... Lot of emotions moving around and along. Lot of stuff that I am going to have to deal with, in my own way, in my own time. And of course, this looming thing where there is going to have to be some kind of reckoning among the stuff at grandma's house... The stuff that is allegedly legally theirs, but they're willing to let us take the things that they don't want, but that doesn't even get discussed for a fortnight, because again, they want to enjoy their holidays. And I'm just not looking forward to any of that. I mean, they're on notice that there are certain things we want; and those might just be the first things they go ahead and sell/throw out if they haven't already. And I don't even want to drive up to that house, let alone go in, let alone deal with those people ever again. So yeah. Fa la la la la, la la la laaaa... I need to fix me something for breakfast/lunch, that's important, it's coming on damn near noon.