My husband had to work today since he went back out into the field (cable technician), so I washed my hair and then decided to cut it. It was down to my shoulder blades, but it just hasn’t had any life when I dry it. It just kind of hangs there. I figured that nobody knows your hair better than you do, so I took the scissors to it.
It didn’t turn out too bad. Who knows if it’s even. I don’t really care. I like uneven layers in it anyway. The last time I had a haircut, the bitch didn’t do what I asked because she didn’t think it would look right. So, I did it myself and it turned out how I wanted it to turn out.
I also went to see my niece tonight. I haven’t seen her in a couple of months, and I really enjoy the baby stage, as long as they are other peoples babies. I’m done with that part of my life. I still think it would have been cool to have a baby with my husband, but both of us have more than enough kids combined. I have one, he has three. I think we’re good. Plus, I was allergic to my pregnancy. I never want to go through that again. I’m also almost 32 and my daughter is five years from being a legal adult. I’m almost done. I’d be bat-shit crazy to start over again.
But still, that cuddly little face makes my heart melt.
So anyway – my praternal grandfather has severe dementia, and will probably die sooner rather than later. If it sounds like I said that with no emotion, it’s because there isn’t any. The last time I saw that man, I was eleven years old. He was coming over to my house to take me to lunch for my birthday. He had never been to my house before. I had only seen him twice before in some feeble attempt to have some relationship in my life. I went to the mountains with him and his wife for a weekend trip, and I stayed the night at their house one time. Anyway, he pulled up to the house and came inside for a moment. I was dressed in my finest clothes, ready for my lunch date with my grandpa. He made some flimsy excuse about his wife not feeling well, handed me some ugly ass brown purse as a birthday gift, and he left. I never saw him again.
I imagine it’s because I lived in a trailer. He comes from money and always had a certain snobbery. After all, he left my grandmother and my dad when my dad was three years old. He didn’t see him again until my dad was in his 30’s. I don’t know why I thought it would be any different for me.
I say all of this to bring up that my grams (who lives with me) told me today that she talked to my grandfathers wife the other day and she made mention that she specifically wanted me to have some hutch cabinet that is my grandfathers. I looked at my grams and told her I didn’t want it. She kind of got shitty with me and said “Well, he IS your grandfathers.” I told her that he was not. He isn’t my grandfather. My grandfather is the man that my grams lived with for over 25 years that helped raise me, took care of me, bought me things when I was a baby like diapers and formula. THAT man is my grandfather. Not this asshole who is having karma loop, swoop, and pull his ass through the rungs right now. I don’t want his wife’s shitty guilty trip compensation. As far as I’m concerned, she can shove that hutch up her ass. She doesn’t know me. She hasn’t seen me in over twenty years. She is nothing to me, and so is that man. Sorry neither one of y’all wanted anything to do with me all of these years …. but don’t start trying to make penance with me to help you sleep better at night.
As far as I know, my dad’s cancer is getting the best of him. He was recently in the hospital for over a week for severe pain. The tumor that is on his liver seemed to be pressing on a part of his kidney’s and causing issues with urination and making him want to kill himself to stop the pain. Eventually they found a dosage of multiple pain meds that worked for him. He’s at home now, but I think it’s getting close to the point that he will eventually need hospice. He isn’t being too verbal about what exactly is going on. I think he knows more than he’s letting on about his cancer. But, it’s stage 4 colon cancer – there’s only so much that can be done before you die. I’m sad for him. But, I don’t have that bond with him. He apologized for missing the first thirty years of my life. I told him I understood. He wasn’t ready for a child. He gave me up for adoption to my step-dad. That was admirable shit. He had no idea that my step-dad would turn into a world class dickhead.
So both my father and my grandfather are dying. Neither of which I really know all that much about. I feel sad for my father. While he was in the hospital, the only people that came to visit him were myself and his girlfriend. His other daughter didn’t go. I don’t think she even called him. She’s been very wrapped up in her new boyfriend. I like my half-sister enough – though I haven’t actually seen her very much our entire life. We’re Facebook friends and we chat when it comes to matters of our dad. I think she has some kind of condition where she disassociates herself from emotion. She has had more of our dad than I ever did. Holiday’s, birthday parties, weekends at his house. She had it all. Well, she had as much of him as he was willing to give to another person.
Life is too damn short to fuck around and treat people like shit. At the end of this life, you don’t want to be the person laying there dying with nobody to say goodbye to, because they said goodbye to you years ago.