8

memoir of what I experienced 10 years ago

I was informed by my dad that the guy I was seeing could not sit with the family at the funeral, and that my ex was to sit with us, for appearances and to reduce the amount of questions and to keep it simple. And so that's the way it was.

My guy did come, he was one of the many people who had to stand, lining the walls, there was no room to sit. I had to play like I didn't know him. My dad hadn't met him, but he had heard I had a boyfriend. I tried to delay their meeting for as long as possible, not for their sake, but for my own. I didn't want to hear it. He had already told me how foolish it was for my ex & I to split. I said "There was a lack of love, Daddy" to which he said, "There's more to marriage than love."

That's like saying there's more to a house than it's foundation. You can't do without it.

I got the full lecture. Especially how foolish it was to leave a family with such assets. Not kidding. As if that means anything to me. As if living on an estate floats my boat. I should have suggested that HE go and marry my ex and enjoy some inheritance.



I avoided my dad at all costs during this time. He and my mom had divorced a few years earlier, and he was a miserable man.


A few more days of this carrying on, these miserable people coming in and out of my mom's house. I kept myself occupied by moving in. Loaded up all my stuff almost overnight and came and lived with her. Myself, my daughter, and my dog. We three camped out in my brother's room, which had not yet been emptied. It still smelled like him.



Finally the house cleared out, people stopped coming. My mom took apart my brother's bedroom and cleaned it out. It was now officially my room. Which was strange, because just a few months before, we had talked about converting my mom's garage into an apartment for me and my daughter. It was an option that I was seriously considering. At the time, I had a little townhome that I loved, but wasn't sure if I could afford it much longer. So the garage idea sounded good, but one day, as I looked at the garage, I sensed that I would never live there. I walked to my brother's room, he wasn't home. I opened his closet doors, and envisioned my things. I knew that his room would be mine, soon. Not knowing why. I thought, well maybe he's going to go stay with my dad.



All of this might sound totally normal and not so much to deal with, but I was newly separated and getting used to being financially independent, pretty scary, then add to that this new chaotic relationship I was in. Now this, my brother's death. And now, moving in with my mom. Everything was upside down, I had no clue, I was numb. I couldn't feel anything. I was freezing over inside.

Reviews

[LSS]

I know this may be ten years ago for you, but if you are just writing it, its still fresh and alive in you. Your chloric style is good and an easy read. You draw us into your suffering and pain as you express your inner feelings. Its easy to empathize and understand your thinking. I also like to write stories of my past, yet here we differ. I am a humorist, and can easily see the lighter side of things. But your style, is more questioning and though expressing your hurt and pain, it is done in such a way as to be reasonable. It is probable that each of us could do with a dose of our other side, and make us more complete writers. I like your work.
Lar

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the thoughts in the chapter. Looking back at life and trying to figure out what you need and wanted. A very sad chapter. Touching and moving the belongings of another lost leave us with too many thoughts. Thank you for sharing the excellent chapter.
Coyote