Recently I had an aunt die (on my mother's side). Yes, this is sad news and it was difficult to realize. But her death wasn't even the hardest part.
I had debated going to the memorial service as my family truly is the definition of "white-trash"... and I'm not exaggerating! I knew it would be difficult to surround myself in all of that dysfunction and mayhem but I came to understand that the service was NOT about me. It was about my aunt. So I decided I owed it to her, as well as myself, to say goodbye no matter how hard it may be to face those people after so long.
I arrived late and found a place to sit at the very back, beside my sister. As soon as I sat down she said to me, "Dad's here." I couldn't even translate what she said through my reaction to that news. I was shocked, scared, hurt and unsure about what I would do when the service was over and he came to say hi. As soon as she told me he was there, I collected my heart from the floor (to which it fell) and quickly scanned the room to find him. There he was smiling and waving back at me, nauseatingly...and STILL pretending he didn't molest me.
I haven't seen him in years, nor have I confronted him and against my better judgement I waved back, shaking uncontrollably and I felt I was carrying on the facade he created when I was a child by doing so. I felt immediately sick. Amazing how all of those feelings of humiliation, dirtiness and pain come back in one swift step. I closed my eyes and lowered my head. I almost fainted. I couldn't believe nobody told me he'd be there. I couldn't understand why he WAS there at all.
I found out later that my mom and sisters all knew he'd be there 3 days before that service. I was furious. My brother didn't know either and I'm positive they kept that rom him becasue they knew he'd tell me. My brother is the only functional member of my family, if you haven't guessed.
When we left the room and made it outside, I could barely walk. My legs were like jello. I was completely nervous and just wanted to sneak away unnoticed. Not possible.
As he hasn't seen me in at least 10 years, and still pretends nothing happened, he was quite excited to see me. He was also drunk (alcoholic). He hugged me right away, which I lived through, and then followed me around for the next 20 minutes. It was horrible.
Then my little sister came over and asked us to stand for a picture. I can't believe she didn't acknowledge my glare as she put me in such an uncomfortable position. Yes... she's fucked up too. I couldn't believe it. So there I was, posing for a picture with a man who near destroyed my life. For some reason I feel like I'm contributing to his deviancy by continuing to avoid confronting him. I know it wasn't the time or place, but really... when is a good time? and... really??? Why the HELL do you want that on film? (yes, she knows all about it.)
Anyway I've decided to completely avoid family at all costs, from this day on. I truly hate them and if they weren't my family I KNOW I'd never know them, with the exception of my brother. They're quite simply, fuckin' freaks with no morals, no ethics and ZERO attention for anyone except themselves. Selfish would describe them completely. It amazes me that I am who I am, coming from that garbage. So, I suppose I can be proud of myself for that. But that pride comes with it's own share of regeret, remorse and guilt. They are my blood whether I want it or not and I constantly feel that pull.