Life’s a weird old duck

Found out this past Saturday that one of my maternal uncles died of a heart attack last Saturday (about 9 days after my mother died).

I feel like I should be more sad about that than I am (which is very close to not at all). My mother grew up in less than happy circumstances after her own mother died quite young. She spent the better part of her life feeling inadequate and undeserving of anything good that came her way and, heaven forbid she’d start feeling better about herself, one of her brothers could be counted on to call her up or come visit and make her feel like shit again. (Goes to show you that people don’t necessarily become better human beings as they age, they just get old.)

I wonder if they’ve met again. And how that went? Is it all forgiveness and enlightenment there on the other side? (“Glad we got that Karmic lesson sorted out. High fives all around.”) Or did she finally bloody his nose? (Kapow! “You weren’t supposed to be that big an asshole, asshole.”)**

It’s weird looking at the obituary guestbook and the comments about how kind and generous he was. Families sure do mess each other up in ways they wouldn’t mess up other people, don’t they. My mother would probably be fervently wishing for us to forgive her family, but I’m not nearly as good a person as my mother was. It’s going to take me some time to work through that.


** It reminds of the teacher I had in college who found my journal and then ten years later decided he had to tell me, in best creepy stalker fashion, all about how he read it and shared it some of my classmates. It was a mind fuck, pure and simple, and my reaction when he died suddenly of a heart attack was, “Good.” Hard to be sad about one less asshole in the world, though I’m still a little creeped out by the thought of him perving from the other side.

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