Dancemom03
Flexican wannabe
- Joined
- Jun 14, 2005
- Messages
- 1,795
My dad died on July 2 after being in the hospital for heart failure for a week. I wasn't told until July 8th after he'd been cremated and everything was done.
After telling us he'd met someone and asking what we thought, he remarried in 1980 with the entire family in attendance and happy. Little did we know...
My stepmother had feuds with, and didn't speak to any of her siblings or relatives, even her only daughter spent most of her adult life cut off - SM only spoke to her mother and very rarely. At his wedding reception there were horrible comments made about my uncle. The next day my dad stopped speaking to my aunt, his sister, with whom he'd had a super close relationship since childhood. After a year, he stopped speaking to me, then his dad, and finally his mom. He didn't attend his parents' funerals.
My dad was my hero all thru my early life. When we stopped talking, it hurt every day and there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't miss him. I made repeated attempts over the next twenty years to reconcile but he refused to speak to me. Finally, several years ago, I got up my courage, picked up the phone and called my dad. After getting thru the iron bars of my stepmother's screening process, he came to the phone and I told him how much I missed him, how sorry I was for anything I might have done, then confided that I worried I might die and he'd be left feeling guilty and awful - like I knew I would if something were to happen to him - and I needed to make things right no matter what it took. We had a nice conversation and things improved. While my stepmother informed me that he "wasn't up to visitors", DD20 later visited him several times and got to know the grandfather she'd only heard about when my brother took her - the only family member dad still spoke to - and I called dad's occassionally to check in and let them know I was available any time he was.
To say that I'm heartbroken is an understatement. Worse yet, I feel really betrayed b/c my brother was involved in everything and never breathed a word. I could never have kept something so monumentally important from someone I cared about knowing how deeply it'd hurt them. I feel as though he made a choice between my wicked stepmother & me and choose her. I was only told once she had the ashes and gave the okay. In my mind, once dad was gone, DB's loyalty should have shifted to family. In a very deliberate move, there was no chance to say goodbye while he was in the hospital, no chance at the funeral home, and no grave now to visit or pray at - not even a printed death notice, obituary, or service. They took him directly from the hospital to the crematorium without a look back or any public recognition at all.
I've had nearly two weeks to process it and know it was a petty, vindictive "you'll be sorry when I'm gone" kind of move, likely outdated, voiced many years ago, intended solely to hurt my aunt & I... and it did... every time I think I can put it behind me and move past this, I'm reminded and the hurt grows deeper.
Now my mother (who remarried a great guy that became my kids' doting grandfather since my dad was missing in action) is insisting that I not hold any hurt or resentment towards my brother as "he was just following your dad's last wishes". I'm supposed to go to my brohter's birthday dinner this weekend as though absolutely nothing happened b/c, "after all, he's never married or had kids so I'm all he has left..."
My brother feels wholly justified of course and hasn't even apologized for the hurt he participated in causing. The thing is, last wish or not, (and it couldn't have been a last wish if, as he says, my dad really expected to go home from the hospital the next day) I never would have been able to knowingly hurt someone I cared about. There's no way that he couldn't have known how devastated I'd be. In fact, I'd just sent a father's day card with him for my dad b/c he was spending the day with him just before he went to the hospital and kept asking that entire week he was alive in the hospital without me knowing if he'd liked it, said anything about me, ect. My brother initially avoided answering my question, but I'm nothing if not persistant, so he lied & said dad liked the card. That would have been the perfect opportunity to tell me. He could have said "look I'm not supposed to say anything but..." I wouldn't have interefered. I might have called the house though, hoping my stepmother would tell me. I'd certainly never do anything to hurt either of them or risk his health. BUT I'd have had some warning, some time to prepare myself, maybe even - in the best of all worlds - that last chance to see & hug him that I'd dreamed of for so many years. Instead I have nothing but hurt - and a mother who sees my hurt as wrong and lectures me on it daily while staunchly defending my brother.
I'm not sure I can sit thru a birthday dinner and be pleasant... geez, who am I kidding... I'm not sure I can look at him and not burst into hysterical tears. That wouldn't be a celebration. It wouldn't be happy and it sure wouldn't be comfortable. At this point, it's not my dad's death that hurts the most, it's the fact that my only brother could so callously ignore my feelings as to say "well what did you expect?" What indeed? Certainly loyalty was way too big a stretch...
Okay, vent over, most everybody has some sort of dysfunction in their family, heading for the kleenex box again...
After telling us he'd met someone and asking what we thought, he remarried in 1980 with the entire family in attendance and happy. Little did we know...
My stepmother had feuds with, and didn't speak to any of her siblings or relatives, even her only daughter spent most of her adult life cut off - SM only spoke to her mother and very rarely. At his wedding reception there were horrible comments made about my uncle. The next day my dad stopped speaking to my aunt, his sister, with whom he'd had a super close relationship since childhood. After a year, he stopped speaking to me, then his dad, and finally his mom. He didn't attend his parents' funerals.
My dad was my hero all thru my early life. When we stopped talking, it hurt every day and there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't miss him. I made repeated attempts over the next twenty years to reconcile but he refused to speak to me. Finally, several years ago, I got up my courage, picked up the phone and called my dad. After getting thru the iron bars of my stepmother's screening process, he came to the phone and I told him how much I missed him, how sorry I was for anything I might have done, then confided that I worried I might die and he'd be left feeling guilty and awful - like I knew I would if something were to happen to him - and I needed to make things right no matter what it took. We had a nice conversation and things improved. While my stepmother informed me that he "wasn't up to visitors", DD20 later visited him several times and got to know the grandfather she'd only heard about when my brother took her - the only family member dad still spoke to - and I called dad's occassionally to check in and let them know I was available any time he was.
To say that I'm heartbroken is an understatement. Worse yet, I feel really betrayed b/c my brother was involved in everything and never breathed a word. I could never have kept something so monumentally important from someone I cared about knowing how deeply it'd hurt them. I feel as though he made a choice between my wicked stepmother & me and choose her. I was only told once she had the ashes and gave the okay. In my mind, once dad was gone, DB's loyalty should have shifted to family. In a very deliberate move, there was no chance to say goodbye while he was in the hospital, no chance at the funeral home, and no grave now to visit or pray at - not even a printed death notice, obituary, or service. They took him directly from the hospital to the crematorium without a look back or any public recognition at all.
I've had nearly two weeks to process it and know it was a petty, vindictive "you'll be sorry when I'm gone" kind of move, likely outdated, voiced many years ago, intended solely to hurt my aunt & I... and it did... every time I think I can put it behind me and move past this, I'm reminded and the hurt grows deeper.
Now my mother (who remarried a great guy that became my kids' doting grandfather since my dad was missing in action) is insisting that I not hold any hurt or resentment towards my brother as "he was just following your dad's last wishes". I'm supposed to go to my brohter's birthday dinner this weekend as though absolutely nothing happened b/c, "after all, he's never married or had kids so I'm all he has left..."
My brother feels wholly justified of course and hasn't even apologized for the hurt he participated in causing. The thing is, last wish or not, (and it couldn't have been a last wish if, as he says, my dad really expected to go home from the hospital the next day) I never would have been able to knowingly hurt someone I cared about. There's no way that he couldn't have known how devastated I'd be. In fact, I'd just sent a father's day card with him for my dad b/c he was spending the day with him just before he went to the hospital and kept asking that entire week he was alive in the hospital without me knowing if he'd liked it, said anything about me, ect. My brother initially avoided answering my question, but I'm nothing if not persistant, so he lied & said dad liked the card. That would have been the perfect opportunity to tell me. He could have said "look I'm not supposed to say anything but..." I wouldn't have interefered. I might have called the house though, hoping my stepmother would tell me. I'd certainly never do anything to hurt either of them or risk his health. BUT I'd have had some warning, some time to prepare myself, maybe even - in the best of all worlds - that last chance to see & hug him that I'd dreamed of for so many years. Instead I have nothing but hurt - and a mother who sees my hurt as wrong and lectures me on it daily while staunchly defending my brother.
I'm not sure I can sit thru a birthday dinner and be pleasant... geez, who am I kidding... I'm not sure I can look at him and not burst into hysterical tears. That wouldn't be a celebration. It wouldn't be happy and it sure wouldn't be comfortable. At this point, it's not my dad's death that hurts the most, it's the fact that my only brother could so callously ignore my feelings as to say "well what did you expect?" What indeed? Certainly loyalty was way too big a stretch...
Okay, vent over, most everybody has some sort of dysfunction in their family, heading for the kleenex box again...