It’s been a busy few weeks. Work is prepping for our collaboration launch, princessing has boomed, march of the mummies is two sleeps away, Halloween is just around the corner (you must make time for festivities) the house has been full of the cold, finances have been the hot topic to deal with. I had parcels to check, orders to submit, emails to send, emails to send, emails to send (it never stops) hospital visits, nurseries to check out, forms to fill, parties to plan, a family to give time and attention to, a house to keep running and somehow I’ve had to find time to shower and brush my teeth.
Understandably I’ve been looking forward to some peace. A moment where I don’t have to do anything. That was today after back to back princessing as I stuffed my face with Yorkshire puddings and mash potatoes. Until again my zen was interrupted.
Now this was a strange one as it wasn’t something I was expecting. I mean you half expect baby to throw a tantrum and cover you in mash. It’s guaranteed you won’t finish your meal before it gets cold. But getting a call to tell you your estranged father of whom you have had no contact with in over a decade is in a coma and possibly dying is not what you expect to crash dinner time.
My father is an alcoholic. He was abusive to my mother, thought nothing of taking off his belt to you or giving you a smack for saying no. He was a compulsive liar, a serial promise breaker and ultimately chose to break his family over breaking a habit. He attempted to blackmail me inorder for me to go to my grandfather’s funeral. He gave away and sold heirlooms to fund his habit. Made me lie to cover his back. And never spent very much time with us growing up, even on ‘his days‘ with us.
Im now left in this position where I’m not entirely sure how to feel. I wrote this man off years ago. I chose not to contact him when I fell pregnant. I make a point t of not sharing too much of my child so he cannot have any part of her in his life, even if just pictures. If I’m honest he’s been deceased in my mind for along time. I knew this day would eventually come and I’ve been okay with that. I’m not sad to lose him, if I’m honest I seldom knew him. I feel riddled with guilt though because a person isn’t supposed to feel this way are they? Is it bad that my response was “well that’s what happens, it’s a fact of life” I’m not going to suddenly pretend he was a good person now he’s dying. Death doesn’t change what a person was, who they were or what their actions were.
Should I feel bad? Should some part of me want to visit? Does it make me awful for not doing so? Should I be the good person I want to be and support family? Am I any less of a good person for not wanting to? Am I supposed to visit my brother who I also have little communication with? Should he die do I go to the funeral? Am I wrong for not wanting to do that either? Am I supposed to be the ‘good sister’s and go to support my brother?
This is just a few questions going through my mind.
I can only apologise for the long, morbid and inconclusive pice written tonight. I had to vent in hope of finding some answers.
I hope you are having a wonderful Sunday non the less.
Love and hugs,