Creeping Through The Cellar Door (none_too_subtle) wrote,
Creeping Through The Cellar Door

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So glad you're all here and reading...

And I'll not dare go where I really want to about this subject; my dad deserves so much better than this. And if he was still alive (and I believe he is watching) he'd be sick. I knew this would happen, as I've written in friend's only entries, and predicted it... but never thought " relatives are reading so let's make sure they know everything." Like the piano. My grandmom's piano. Let's talk about that, too. Let's talk about how someone my size could even MOVE these items. That would be real interesting.

And ALL OF THIS started off with a missing bible. My family actually FOUGHT over a bible that no one could find, and THEN "accused me" of taking it!!!!!! Okay, okay. Right. Now I can see how this swerved off into a bizarre direction. But I'd skip it if I was just a regular reader. This is dedicated to...well, my soul, because I need to forgive them. And to MY FAMILY, WHO ARE READING THIS. I'm SO TEMPTED to throw up some naked photos in here, too, but I'll resist. Because, well, that would give them another reason to hate me.


You know...a man as good as my dad should NOT have to start off his afterlife worrying about the idiots down here who don't have a conception of real loss.

And since -- during that time period -- I journaled almost everything privately BUT pictures of the newly-opened shrunk which has been in storage since 2003, I'm thanking GOD right now that I kept my feelings and dates and times and, well, LIFE secret from everyone who'd read. Should I take this opportunity to tell them about mother giving me the piano, too? It's damn sure worth more than the shrunk. UNREAL.

It never occurred to me that my family would be ill-spirited in any way about my dad. But oh yeah...right NOW, I'm getting messages that the shrunk -- which I posted pictures of after my friend (who is THANK GOD an attorney) helped me get it out of storage, along with my portfolio (which doesn't count right now).

Oh yeah...they want to fight over something my dad gave me in 2003, during his experimental heart surgery. A procedure that I'm sorry, but NO, RELATIVES WEREN'T REPRESENTED THEN...SO WHY NOW?? My brother didn't make it. I was with my dad the whole time in 2003, it snowed that year, and I'd met with my dad PRIOR TO his surgical decision. He called me up, told me it was important that I come over, and I did. While I was there (and most of this will remain friend's or private) we talked about a lot of things. My childhood, the dad wept, because he had no idea of some of the things I went through, due to his working so hard to keep our family afloat. I told him it was fine, I was fine, and everything would /be/ fine. He had the shrunk right beside him, gave me the skeleton key (which I've kept on my ring since then). He told me there was nothing valuable in it, but wanted me to have it. I couldn't look at it then, and proceeded to tell him why HE needed it. He had to have something to look forward to. That's when I bought him his first DVD player. They were a little new and very expensive back then. I had to get a friend to help financially, but my dad had his DVD player. The look on his face was just like the look he got when I gave him his first computer -- total joy, at having a new gadget. It was /all/ worth it. I've ALWAYS made sure my dad's techno needs have been met over the years. Although I have no relationship (or very little) with the rest of my family, my dad and I were very close (as all of you know). I accepted the shrunk, but told my dad I'd put it in safe-keeping. It went straight from him to storage, and I didn't see it until he died.

No, there's nothing in there worth anything. But now, my cousin (who, VERY ironically, since mother can't hear nor understand much of what's going on) is claiming it's part of the last will and testament. untrue. Seriously. And again, thank God I have not only an attorney, but a witness, including Kelsey, who wanted to look when I first got it. I wouldn't let her. I felt like it would jinx my dad's surgery.

Night after night, I sat with my dad when everyone else went home. It was snowing, which is not typical for these parts, and everyone was afraid of "slipping and falling" or "wrecking" (or so they said). While I was with my dad, I didn't sleep in the hotel room they provided me. I slept in a chair by his side, because the nurses were horrible.

Where were my well-meaning relatives THEN?? Seriously?!? And if they're reading my freakin' live journal, why in GOD'S NAME are they suddenly questioning something that I JOURNALED IN 2003???

That's the beauty of memories. I have over 100; but they're all private memories, even if the entries are open.

Another reason why I should publish my LJ; those who read would finally get to see /everything/...private, friend's only, one-on-one entries...things that "the average joe" can't see. But the freakin' AVERAGE JOE-RELATIVE -- who is hell bent on getting their hands on what my father HANDED TO ME AND TWO OTHER PEOPLE -- must not've been reading my journal BACK THEN.

And to my relatives, who think that something like the SHRUNK has any value, or think that you made mother happy when you were screaming in her face about insurance and wills???? Maybe you want to revisit 2003 in my journal. That will clear things up for you. It is sickening ... beyond SICKENING that this is occurring NOW.

Hopefully, no one will ever again ask why I don't have a close relationship with my family. Hopefully, no one will ask "Don't you have family members who could help you?"

I think I just answered that question. Not only would they never help me (and I do know WHY they won't...they'll get over it), but they'll do everything they can to cause trouble, and make life worse. I have a doctor who'd put the slap down on all of them (she's read my entire journal, from front to back, private entries included). But beyond that, I have NOTHING left to say. To any of them.

I came back to Birmingham because of my dad. Period. PERIOD. I would've happily stayed a Gypsy for the rest of my days, had his situation not worsened. I have STAYED in Birmingham, because I was his MAIN CONTACT IN THE FAMILY. I'm the one he called when he needed favors. I'm the one he'd get to rally and get the "siblings" together for Christmas gifts (ibid, my mother's grandfather clock). He called me because he loved me. I was the first-born child, and I'm sure some are thinking "why weren't you the executrix?" There are many, MANY reasons for that: But the main one was because I turned them down when they asked me. It IS that simple. Period. I knew, and was right, that I couldn't deal with the death of either of them emotionally. I was right about that.

What I didn't count on was another family fight, JUST LIKE the one they had when my grandmother on my mother's side died. That family fought like CRAZY over everything. My mother and several sisters stopped talking to their niece (which I won't get in to...I'm just glad they finally made up years' later).

I have NO DOUBT NOW that when mother finally departs this...horrific mortal coil of what SHOULD be a family, they'll be rallying for my grandmother's piano, too. And again, I'll have to bring witnesses, and phone conversations (thank GOD I'm a journalist...I record everything) to justify WHY I HAVE THE PIANO. Because I would LOVE TO JUST SELL IT. The piano is worth FAR MORE than the shrunk. In sentimentalism, in price...or resell. That'll come up, too, I'm sure.

The piano has not been played. Some things that my mom and dad gave me are now going to remain locked up in friend's only entries as well as back to the storage unit, simply because my freakin' family members are acting this way after a good man's death. I'm disgusted. Because it was that very cousin's side of the family that mother was so angry at, after HER mother's death. That little piece of information never escaped my attention. Nothing ever DOES escape my attention.

They need someone to be angry with. Oh yeah. I'll continue hearing "Terri's a snob" because I speak ENGLISH. No other reason (fortunately, my sister and I had a good talk about all this the next day, and I learned -- unhappily, I'd NEVER be a "sibling" to either of them...because perception is EVERYthing). When mother is gone, that will be it for me. They can say or do whatever for the rest of their lives.

I've learned something that NONE of them have. I've learned how to love, and what's it's like to BE loved. The piano. The shrunk. The two things my parents wanted me to have, and have them, I do and will. It's that simple. Oh, I'm sure they'll try to fight it. I've already spoken with an attorney who laughed over it. I don't think it's funny, but it's damn depressing. They just want to fight. It's that simple.

Shame. I feel shame that I'm part of a family that thinks I'm "taking something from them" when I don't NEED a thing they have to offer. I feel shame because this is all they know -- a person is only as good as what they're monetarily worth. It's sickening. It wreaks of a lesser-class individual, and it's pathetic. But even more -- they are reading MY JOURNAL to see "what they can come up with".

Hey, jackass? You won't read anything I don't want you to. It's that simple. And let's not forget YOUR family fighting after my grandmom's death.


So thankfully, I had my doctor's appointment this week, went through my last round of treatment, and it seems I have the flu. I felt wretched today, and even ASKED my cousin if it was THAT IMPORTANT that I receive the certified document. He was all "oh yeah, go get it NOW NOW NOW". I didn't. I honest-to-God thought it was whatever he cobbled together after my dad's death. Um. MOTHER is the beneficiary. NOT YOU. NOT MY SIBLINGS. NOT ME. DEAL WITH THAT.

Not only that, but *I* have a life insurance policy which I gave to my parents to keep in case of my death before theirs. I HOPE YOU'RE READING THIS, BECAUSE MY ATTORNEY WANTS THAT. READ THAT. READ THIS. WE WANT MY INSURANCE PAPERS -- WHICH WERE SAVED WITH MY PARENT'S -- WITHIN THE WEEK.

I'm not a coward. I don't HAVE to hide behind certified mail, because, well, I track my journal. I was fully aware that family were reading this. It's sad, but um...they're the only ones in THAT zip code who read it. I'd make some really bad jokes here, but since this has everything to do with greed, and my dad's life, I'll resist.

My dad was a great, good and loving man. The best. Every surgery, every phone call when he bid me to come and be with him, I've done. I came back to Birmingham for him; Kelsey keeps me here. But as soon as Kelsey's on her own, I'm going to finally -- once and for all and THANK GOD -- be out of here, and rid of these issues forever. This has occurred EVERY time a key family member has died. As a little girl, I'll never forget (the sewing machine...remember that?? Are they still after Aunt D to get the sewing machine back, because I WANT TO LAY CLAIM TO IT...IT WAS MY GRANDMOM'S) ALL the problems the family has had, and ONLY because of greed.

As I wrote in a friend's only entry, my dad wasn't even out of the room before two family members (who'll go unmentioned) were SCREAMING in my mother's face, asking her where the will and insurance paperwork were. SCREAMING at her. She looked at me -- when they went to look for the paperwork -- her eyes, filled with tears, and asked me to make them stop. I couldn't tell her that they'd get crazy on me. I couldn't tell her that the "big men" were threatening the women, just in case WE got smart and hired our own counsel. I couldn't tell her that for them, that's ALL that counted; was the money or potential of it. Her heart, like mine, was totally broken. While I understand why she didn't want the funeral rushed (and OMG it was...again, mentioned only a friend's only entry), the "guys" didn't get it. They never will. They weren't WITH my dad during all his surgeries. I was. Mother was...most of the time. They didn't spend those precious couple of hours every Sunday with my dad. They didn't TALK WITH HIM ... I did. My dad, I believe, lived as long as he did for two reasons: my mother and me. Truth hurts, but there it is. He loved her with all his heart; and I was the one he came to when all his friends and relatives with whom he could talk died. I was interested in theology and history. I could talk about these things, where other family members couldn't. He would often (and friends know this, too) call me at midnight, at least once a year, and ask me to come get him, because he and my mother had another misunderstanding. I still believe it was because neither of them could /hear/. But he didn't call my siblings, and ESPECIALLY not my cousins. He called me. And *I* talked him in to staying with mother. Every single time he called.

And the rest of what I've had to say about "family" will forever remain locked up, or in friend's only entries. Right now? I'm just THANKING GOD that I /did/ make friend's only entries, and that I /have/ kept a journal for so long. If I hadn't, I wouldn't be able to go back and specifically point it out. If I didn't keep a journal, I wouldn't have /remembered/ who was with me several years' ago. Kelsey and I just talked about it, and surprisingly she said "Mom, didn't you tell them that he gave that to you when I was 11?"

Um. She knows more about it than they ever will.

Kelsey also asked "What about the piano? They gonna try to get that, too?"

She's angry. She should be. And NOW she understands. I've never hidden truths from Kelsey. She deserves honesty about my childhood, the way I feel, and life in general. So of course during the patterns of telling her things, she's known so much more than my family put altogether would /ever/ know. ABOUT my family, no less. I didn't /trust/ them with the knowledge my parents gave me. And now? I never, ever, NEVER will.

Ya know...I could understand if I'd made off with, say, one of their computers. I'd kill to have either my mom's or my dad's. And I hate to say it, but their computers are worth more than the things they've given me over the years. It would've been EASY to make it out the door with a computer. Even easier to take the monitor (I really want my dad's monitor, but not for reasons that my family would ever understand). THAT would make sense. But for them to get on their bellies, and crawl around in my journal is sickening, and for what??? To go on a witch hunt, which will blow up in the face of whatever case they think they have. That INCLUDES the piano.

It's all so surreal, that I'd cry if I wasn't so angry. Actually, I'm happy it's not what I thought it was. Because once it's all final, I'm afraid of my emotional reaction to it. I'm glad it's not neatly stitched up, and taken care of. That keeps my dad with me for a little longer. And this is something they'll never understand.

"They". Those who sneak around, so I can snag their IP addies -- at work and at home -- and TRY TO RESIST flame-throwing a virus that would send them straight to Best Buy to get a new computer.

Must. Resist. Not everyone's greedy and evil. I'm trying to remember that. Especially right now, because we all know that I could sell the piano, and sit happy for a couple of months.

Okay. I feel SO MUCH better after getting that out of my system. This time? I'm not locking it up. I know they're gonna read (or chances are REALLY GOOD), and I want them to SEE THE REALITY of what they're doing. My whole CONDO could blow up today. I could call some friends to help me move heavy stuff, like OH I DUNNO, the piano and the shrunk? God knows I can't pick up EITHER OF THOSE BY MYSELF.

I mean, did they not THINK about that?!?! I was driving the deathmobile. HOW DID IT FIT? HOW DID I PICK IT UP???? It weighs more than *I* do! It's so ridiculous that I want to scream.

But enough about that. I have to spend time with my spawn today, and hope my fever goes away. I also have to try REALLY HARD to forgive my cousin, because my cousin didn't know what happened and relied on a REAL BAD source. Then again, that could be considered nepitism, and would warrant me getting my attorney involved (which I actually considered three days after my dad passed...I was SO enraged that they try to shut the "women" out of it, ESPECIALLY THE FIRST-BORN).

I'm going to forgive not only my cousin, but my siblings, too. Because they'll NEVER ask me for it. Mother did. That's why she wanted to see me so urgently, one week before my dad died. Mother wanted to apologize, and tell me why she did what she did. I forgave her, and we both cried. It was such a good feeling. But in this situation, there'll be no forgiveness. There will never be an "ending" to the horror. So I have to forgive all of them, for they know not what they do. *I* do. But I forgive them, simply because if I harbored THIS MUCH animosity that I felt upon reading the letter, I'd want to do things that would absolutely justify and PROVE the post traumatic stress disorder issues my doctor feels are "unhealthy" to me, and other people. Yeah. I've gotta keep my anger under control. Of course, I'd get off on the McNaughten's but soul needs to forgive them.

And THIS is all I'll say about that. My attorney, who's read everything herein, as well, has advised me not to tell too much to my family. Clearly, I didn't take his advice, since they ARE READING for the most ill-spirited reasons. I don't care about "things". And that's where my attorney sort of underestimates me. He already volunteered to help when I told him about my dad. I declined. I should've known better, and hopped right on that, so that I could at LEAST ... well, strike that. I could've made decisions which SHOULD'VE and were SUPPOSED TO have been mine upon either of their deaths.

I turned down that responsibility, because I knew it would hurt too much. But it never occurred to me that a "bad element" would pop up in this situation. Writing it all out is therapeutic, so this is too lengthy for ANYONE to read through. They're just looking for trouble spots, pictures, whatever...maybe I'll put some pictures of the piano up here, too, and then sell it. If THAT'S how they're going to be, what's the point in me having what both parents gave me?

Yeah. It's only a matter of time before the piano's mentioned. I suppose *I* took that, too, because we all know that someone who weights 105 lbs., can easily move a 100 lbs. shrunk, much less a 300 lbs. piano.

Ugh. Sickening.

If people will fight over a Bible?! They'll fight over a can of Pringle's. How pathetic, and ... southern is this?

If you read all that, you just wasted a good 20 minutes' this time of me, simply getting the anger out of my system in a healthy venue.

  • No sugar last night in my coffee

    No sleep. I thought a sleep movie would take me down, but naw -- restless leg wins again by a mile. The movie was bizarre (The Box, for those who…

  • O.o lol

    See anything you like yet? Need help? :D

  • Yikes.

    So I used MY own tracking code (which is much more detailed and efficient than LJ's...yeah I see you reading, asshole), and discovered a few…

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  • No sugar last night in my coffee

    No sleep. I thought a sleep movie would take me down, but naw -- restless leg wins again by a mile. The movie was bizarre (The Box, for those who…

  • O.o lol

    See anything you like yet? Need help? :D

  • Yikes.

    So I used MY own tracking code (which is much more detailed and efficient than LJ's...yeah I see you reading, asshole), and discovered a few…