punkwalrus (punkwalrus) wrote,
punkwalrus
punkwalrus

More on my Grandmother's death

Because I haven't been able to post in my blog for a while, I have a lot of "backup" about my life. Bear with me.

Poor late Grandmother Larson. Well, she's been put into the mausoleum with her husband, and my father still hasn't notified anyone that he's been made aware of his mother's death, so I am not sure if he knows and does not care, or has really never answered any e-mail, phone calls, or his door in the last month. I guess he could be away on vacation or something. But, more than likely, he doesn't give a shit.

Because he's a cruel and evil man. He never helped with her care, never visited, and when cornered, always makes some asinine comment about how age is all in your head. Okay, I am as "you are as young as you think" as the next guy, but there is optimism, and then there's denial. Uncle Charles and Aunt Angela had been taking care of grandmother Marion since the early 1980s, and not once has my father helped in any way. Okay, then add to the fact he never helped me, his only son, and they fact he was cruel and mean to me all growing up, and the fact he has no friends, is a sociopath and ... well, he's just the world's biggest asshole. That soulless carcass leaves an indelible stain on ever human he comes in contact with. He told me all the time while I grew up, "People are only out to get you. I am the only one who cares about you, and I don't even like you." I can see how this would be his reality. He treats people like appliances, and when the appliance is no longer needed, he just abandons them. There have been psychotic moments where I thought, "Killing him would morally be the same level of crime as unplugging a defective computer." But I don't really believe that, because I don't want to hurt Nicole, and I could never bring myself to kill another human being, no matter how much I hated him. It just seems too cowardly.

Like something he would do.

So I'll just wait for him to rot. Then I'll feel better that the world is a little safer from his influence. Uncle Charles tells me to just forget him, but experience has shown you don't turn your back on someone like him.

In the meantime, Uncle Charles has been sending my some scanned photos and documents he has found in Marion's possessions. One of them is a letter from "the crazy aunt" that raised Marion. In the letter, the first two paragraphs talk about, "Well, glad to hear you are married, make a good wife, and you deserve to have a better life," and the last one basically says, "I am done raising you. It is probably best we never see each other again. I'll send you your last possessions, I am moving, and have a good life." Uncle Charles says this proves how crazy she was, but I saw it more as a letter of closure. There are lines there that hint to other things, but what those mean, time has erased.

What interests me is that Marion kept this letter from 1936 all these years in a box of her prized possessions. I wish I had a letter like this from my dad, instead of the ragged ends to everything he left. Actually, I wish he'd turn into this Hollywood fairybook, "I am sorry of my past transgressions, let's start anew," character, but along with so many other abused kids, I probably will never see that day.

There were other pictures, too. Some of my dad as a teen, one of my grandparents as a happy 1930s couple, and then ... this one disturbing one of my father, Marion, and I when we found out my grandfather died you see to the right. It's in front of the mausoleum, which I do remember visiting. But the worst part of this photo, IMHO, is where my dad's hands are. It's too close to my throat, over my heart, and notice how the force is pulling me back. Look at my expression. Shit, this picture gives me the chills.

This entry was originally posted at http://www.punkwalrus.com/blog/archives/00000520.html
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