Saturday, December 18, 2004
This may be the hardest entry I've ever written, so bear with me.When I was around 15, my mum left my dad, and went to live with her 'boyfriend'.
This in itself was difficult to deal with. My dad was/is an absolute bastard, treated us all very badly, with both mental, and physical bullying... bad enough to give my mum a nervous breakdown, and push her right over the edge into insanity.
After years in and out of a lunatic asylum (yes, seriously), by the time my mum left to shack up with this guy, she was so full of pills to stop her from raving, that if you shook her, she'd rattle.
So, the 'boyfriend' was this guy she'd met at a drop-in centre for people with mental problems. He was an alcoholic, drug misusing, smelly, disgusting, compulsive gambler. All in all, a very unsavoury creature.
Over the years, his behaviour, addictions, and mistreatment of my mum got worse, to the point where he made my dad look like a saint... and after my grandfather died, my sister and I managed to convince her to leave him and go to live with my gran.
Excellent, we thought, as my gran couldn't stand the guy either, and wouldn't allow him in her house.
Then my gran died.
Now, there is a clause in my gran's will that states that my mum may live in her house for as long as she likes, and that if/when she decides to move elsewhere, it is to be sold and the proceeds split between my mum and aunt. *However*, if my mum should allow any man (and this is written specifically to stop this drunken disgusting waster from moving in) to move in with her... the house is to be sold, regardless of whether my mum wishes it or not. I don't know who would have enforced this clause, but it's in writing, and legally binding.
So.. from the moment my gran died, the 'boyfriend' began worming his way back into my mum's life, dropping round for visits, totally uninvited, drunk as a skunk, and often at completely unreasonable hours... and then refusing to leave. Don't ask me why my mum allowed him in... it's completely beyond me.
It was obvious to everyone but my mum that this guy was on a serious downward spiral, and seemed absolutely determined to take my mum down with him.
So now we get to the bit that's really troubling me.
Last night I was woken by my cellphone. I keep it in my bedroom for emergencies, as when I'm in bed, I can't hear the landline.
It was my sister, phoning to tell me that the 'boyfriend' was dead. He'd had a heart attack while he was with my mum, and died before the ambulance arrived.
Now you'd expect this to be a traumatic experience for my mum, but I know from past experience that my mum simply can't be traumatised anymore. All of the pills she has to take completely insulate her from reality. When my gran died, my mum's reaction was.. well... she was numb. I asked her how she felt, and she didn't feel a thing. It's not that she didn't care... she just couldn't feel anything.... and that appears to be her reaction now too.
So... is this what's troubling me? No.
What troubles me is my own reaction.
I'm entirely horrified by the first two things that crossed my mind when my sister told me what had happened.
1: "Thank god for that."
Relief that this fucking arsehole can't fuck my mum's life up any more.... but still.... it disgusts me that I could actually be glad that another human being has died.
2: "Okay... that's gonna fuck up my christmas, coz now she's gonna have to come and spend the day with me."
Yeah... really... I actually thought that, and I feel nothing but shame.
The *only* good thing I could ever say about that drunken fucker was that he'd spend christmas day with my mum, saving me from the obligation. I doubt many people will understand that... but it's like I'm the parent and she's the child... a complete role reversal... not just with christmas, but life in general.. and over the years, this has really begun to bug me. So being spared from being the 'christmas host' was quite a relief.
None of this can make me feel good about thinking such a thing though. The depths of my own selfishness make me feel sick.
Labels: annoyed, bereavement
Steve 5:20 AM [+]
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