At the wake

My father's brother died recently. We'll call him "Paul" (not his real name). He was a good husband, father and pillar of the community. The turnout at the funeral Mass showed how much he was loved and respected.

DH and I grappled with whether we should tell my father about his brother's death. If so, how do we break the news? I felt that he had a right to know. Yes, it would make him sad, but that's life. DH talked to the social worker, who felt that it wasn't necessary for him to be told, spare him the heartache.

We went to the wake. There was "Bea", my father's nasty "friend" that I have discussed ad infinitum in earlier posts, sitting in the front row next to Paul's wife and sister (my aunts), as though she were a member of the family! That left DH and I (and everyone else who was there to comfort and grieve) with the awkward task of greeting Paul's wife and sister while having to deal with Bea. DH spoke to them all. Then it was my turn. I greeted Paul's wife and sister. I tried to ignore Bea. She kept staring at me. It was so uncomfortable. As I was trying to have a conversation with them, Bea blurted out: "Did you forget me?" I felt like ignoring her. I should have. But I said no. Then she asked how the kids were and if my oldest had gotten his license yet. She doesn't give a damn about my family. She's just a bitch. But I politely answered her. I dunno why. Once a sucker, always a sucker, I guess.

Well, guess what? Bea had already told my father about his brother's death. She went to see him and blurted it out. I have told Bea in the past "leave my family alone". I was dumbfounded. I've never hated anyone so much in my life. She never asked us if we should tell him, nothing. She's caused trouble at every facility he's been at.

Never a godmother...

We went to a wingding for one of the niece's yesterday. It was very nice; she's a sweet kid. We had fun although DH pretty much ignored me and my SIL suggested that we go for "marriage counseling".

9 nieces and nephews, countless cousins and friends' kids, and never asked to be godmother. Never even told "Well, we would have considered you, but..." A lifetime of being an active Catholic in a (mostly) Catholic family.

Some people don't get it. They say "move on", "what's the big deal?" etc. Well, it may not mean much to them but it's a big deal to me. It feels like there's a big hole in my heart. There's a big void.

Neighbors

We are the token "special needs" family in the neighborhood. (lucky us!)

As a result, we are the scapegoat for anything that goes wrong in the neighborhood, even though my kids aren't the ones running around unsupervised doing God knows what in the "woods" area.

We had a neighborhood kid who broke into cars, houses, etc. but he was an "NT" (neurotypical) so it was just a case of "boys will be boys". Yeah, right.

Yeah, the special needs kids are all troublemakers and the "normal" ones are all angels, all the time as far as some of my neighbors are concerned. Uh huh.

We finally saved up enough money to do some home improvement on our house - it looks good, thanks to the phenomenal job our friends did - but some of the neighbors still hate us. We'll always be the odd ones out, the special needs family. Ugh.