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Just Another (Miserable) Manic, (Attempted Murdering) Monday

Part Four

Remembering the last conversation I had with him:

“If I made some brownies would you eat them?”
“Do you want to go for a drive, get out the house for a bit? I’ve got a dog cover thing over the back seat so if you have an accident its no problem”

She’d been telling me for some time that he wouldn’t leave the house, afraid he was going to soil himself. I’d got some adult nappies (at her request) and she’d apologised saying it must’ve been embarrassing buying them. Didn’t even occur to me. No one cares about that sort of stuff do they? I mean don’t get me wrong, if I was 12 and saw someone buying them I probably would’ve laughed but now I’m confident enough to say “No thank you!” when offered a bag and swing them along through the car park as I go.

More likely he probably thought ‘I’m not spending my last moments in a car with her driving’. He never learned to drive and made a terrible back seat passenger. Never the front. Even though he was a lot bigger, mother always got the front seat. Of course she would, she’s the most important person in the world. She never learned to drive either.

Anyway, where did I leave Part 3. Hang on, need to go back and read it…(hush, brain injury, I can’t help it)

Ah yes. I needed to call Aunty M back. [see: Part 3]. Lets find out what these supposed bygones are.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, I never said anything about bygones. Now could you give me a lift to the funeral?”

For real? You don’t answer my calls during the worst period of my entire life and with no apology or even any other words, you want a lift? Seriously?!! You want me to travel an hour to get you, an hour back here, then an hour to get you back home and another hour to get home myself?! [I know this is jumbled but hopefully you’ll catch the gist]

For once, I didn’t immediately cave and say of course I will, feeling duty bound (ALWAYS). This time I said “No. Sorry. But no. I have CRPS in my right wrist, I can’t drive for more than 5 minutes without being in agony. I’m not driving for hours to get you for a 10 minute funeral service for a bloke you never even liked”.

She then said come hell or high water she’s going to her younger sister’s funeral. My aunty A lives locally and had been battling cancer for a couple of years but it looked like the end was near. “She’s my favourite sister!” Aunty M said. “I’ve been over every single week to see her, blah (her daughter) or blah(her granddaughter) have been taking me”. And then realising what she just said “I mean, not every week”. But you need me to drive you to funeral? Shaking my head as I type this.

And the following Monday, my aunt died. Mother rang to ask if I was going to the funeral and I said yes, I’d like to. Are you sure? Yes I’m sure. She rang the next day to say there wasn’t enough space. That’s okay, I won’t go, I know funerals need to be kept small.

I rang mother after and asked how it went. “Ok it was bloody freezing in there but I had a lovely chat with some women from the WI”. Sorry, what? She had people there from WI but I couldn’t go because there wasn’t enough room? Nice.

One week later it was Christmas Eve I rang my Uncle to see how he was, ask how it went. He said its a shame you couldn’t come, your mother said you had something wrong with your feet. What? I do have problems with my feet but I have to do everything with chronic pain, I would’ve got through a funeral. Mother said there wasn’t enough space? “Oh we had a few places spare, you could’ve come! Your mum said you couldn’t make it”. That’s because she’s a massive liar.

Then we had an hour long chat and he told me the price of every single casket and funeral service “how much do you reckon a wicker basket is? Go on, guess”. I’m chuckling as I type this because we did laugh and I like to think that made up a little bit for my funeral absence.

I’m going to bring this little series of Manic Monday to an end now. Been waking up in the night anxiety ridden that I’m over-sharing (Queen of the understatement!). Everything since is one long list of horrible phone calls I’ve had with mother. Giving me a headache thinking about it and life’s too short eh? Besides, there’s going to be a whole heap of other family stuff to write about soon…

I’m going to search for my biological father and siblings from both him and biological mother. Already tracked down biological mother but she doesn’t want to meet/know me and my siblings (two sisters and one brother on her side) don’t know I exist. I’m a dirty secret. For now. I’ll keep you posted! x

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