Hello fellow readers, long time no see. No poem for this one unfortunately.
Last night, I had a very personally confusing phone call. It was dad (initially i thought a pocket dial, he never phones). Told me there was some bad news. Again, there I was in my room thinking oh god its grandma, whisked away to hospital on death’s door.
“Its about John”…
… my estranged uncle. the uncle that financially abused my grandparents, that mentally abused my father and my aunt. The estranged uncle that has taught me so much about manipulation and how to catch people out when they try and manipulate others. The estranged uncle that put himself on the streets to prove a point to us, who cost my father his health and money. (my dad is kind in nature, and tried for years to help this uncle be less estranged, even he gave up.)
Back to reality, he then tells me that he has unfortunately died, found in a flat somewhere in milton keynes.
You know my first initial thought was? Thank FUCK he cannot hurt anyone again. How twisted is that? I was upset, yes, he was (WAS) my favourite uncle that seemed to get me, I will miss him, but then I have grieved the uncle I had when he started to abuse people like my elderly grandparents, his parents. My thought was thank fuck he cannot try and abuse my grandma (she has dementia, very easily persuaded now), he cannot make my dad cry again, he cannot hurt anyone ever again.
Then the guilt of thinking that. Of thinking “someone has died, therefore everyone else will not be hurt”. Like, how? Should I not be grieving? Grandpa and Graham have died and I was in bloody bits. My partner (now fiancee, but thats a completely different blog post…) had to pick up the pieces when grandpa had gone. Why do I not feel this now?
Is it because he is estranged? So now, to me, he is but just another person that has died? Am I upset, just because I hate that people die? Or am I upset because of guilt? Could we have done more? (I know the answer to that. it was years.)
I wish things could have been different. Dad gave estranged uncle so so many chances, his health diminished for it as he was constantly going to the prison where he was, giving him money and shelter when uncle left prison. He couldn’t have done more. But could have I? at 16 or whatever?
The next question in my head is: funeral. Do I attend? Do we attend? He expressly told us that he had no family anymore and cut himself off (horrible words were spoken to my father, might I add, two weeks before grandpa died). Is it bad that, in my head, I don’t want to spend money to get back home to go to someone I don’t know’s funeral? But then, if we don’t go, who even will?
I feel sorry for john. I feel sorry for dad. I feel sorry for everyone in this situation.
Anyone in this blogger world experienced the same? How have you dealt with this? My friend thinks I should be very much upset, but to be honest, I am just confused…