We've all heard the saying about how it's only in hard times you know who your real friends are. But you never realize how true it is until your friends turn out to be complete bastards. That, I've learned the hard way. I should have known, but I guess somehow I thought that saying wouldn't apply to family.
My sister has barely come to visit my dad in the last 15 months. She's barely ever called. When he was in the hospital last month, she visited after it had been two weeks. Two freaking weeks! I was at the hospital the very damn night he was admitted! Last week, when the doctor explained to us the cancer was evolving very quickly, my mother e-mailed her. My sister replied that she was going to "try" to visit, but that she probably wouldn't be able to because things were very hectic at work. She works at KFC!!!! Are you kidding me? On Thursday morning, my mom called her to tell her the bad news that her dad had passed away. "So, what are you gonna do?" my mom asked. "Well, I don't think I can come down." was the reply. So my sister hasn't come to help us out. She's been going to work as usual.
My dad's mother doesn't even know yet. Why, you ask? Oh, because today she's flying back from Greece, where she's been for two weeks, on a cruise. Yes, my dad's mother left her dying son all freaking alone for two weeks and hasn't even called. Actually, at first she planned to make my dad believe that the reason she wasn't visiting him while she was gone was that she had the flu. Crazy, ain't it? You know, I really don't care that she's gone, that she wasn't here when he died. What I hate is that her leaving hurt my dad. And he didn't need more pain. We were all pissed at my grandmother for leaving, but can you imagine what it was like for him? She's his mother, for crying out loud! There was one night he was in so much pain he actually called out to her. And she wasn't there. I can still hear him on the phone telling me he didn't think he would make it until the weekend and his mother had gone away. A mother shouldn't be so inconsiderate. She shouldn't be able to hurt her child in such a way.
When my dad died, he hadn't seen one of his daughters in a month, and he hadn't seen his mother in almost two weeks.
Wasn't the sickness enough? Wasn't the suffering enough? Wasn't it enough for him and my mom to have to go through hell for over a year? Wasn't it enough for my dad to be angry at Life and the World for the unfairness of it all? Wasn't it enough that he had to go through so much pain and finally ended up like this?
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
Comme si le décès d'un proche était pas assez difficile à vivre, il faut faire tout un paquet de démarches le plus rapidement possible pour aviser l'État - en fait, il faut commencer par faire un paquet de démarches pour entamer les démarches visant à aviser l'État.
J'ai donc pas mal passé ma journée à remplir des formulaires. C'est déjà mieux que de courailler chez le thanatologue et le fleuriste, mais quand même assez désagréable. Je commence à connaître par coeur la date de mariage de mes parents, leurs nombreux prénoms et leur numéro d'assurance-sociale respectif.
Le pire, toutefois, c'est le formulaire de demande de recherche testamentaire que l'on doit envoyer à la Chambre des notaires pour vérifier que le testament dont nous disposons est bien le dernier. Le formulaire avait l'air plutôt simple, je m'attendais donc à ce que ça se fasse rapidement... ce qui aurait été le cas si ce n'était de la section qui demande les adresses antérieures de la personne décédée, avec les années, depuis 1961!!!! MILLE NEUF CENT SOIXANTE-ET-UN!!! Mon père avait SIX ANS en 1961!!! Voir qu'on connaît toutes ses adresses! Seigneur, pour ma cote très secrète, fallait seulement que je donne mes adresses des 10 dernières années...! Me semble que si je fais une demande de RECHERCHE testamentaire, c'est parce que je veux que ça soit EUX qui fassent la recherche, pas moi...!
J'ai donc pas mal passé ma journée à remplir des formulaires. C'est déjà mieux que de courailler chez le thanatologue et le fleuriste, mais quand même assez désagréable. Je commence à connaître par coeur la date de mariage de mes parents, leurs nombreux prénoms et leur numéro d'assurance-sociale respectif.
Le pire, toutefois, c'est le formulaire de demande de recherche testamentaire que l'on doit envoyer à la Chambre des notaires pour vérifier que le testament dont nous disposons est bien le dernier. Le formulaire avait l'air plutôt simple, je m'attendais donc à ce que ça se fasse rapidement... ce qui aurait été le cas si ce n'était de la section qui demande les adresses antérieures de la personne décédée, avec les années, depuis 1961!!!! MILLE NEUF CENT SOIXANTE-ET-UN!!! Mon père avait SIX ANS en 1961!!! Voir qu'on connaît toutes ses adresses! Seigneur, pour ma cote très secrète, fallait seulement que je donne mes adresses des 10 dernières années...! Me semble que si je fais une demande de RECHERCHE testamentaire, c'est parce que je veux que ça soit EUX qui fassent la recherche, pas moi...!
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Personne,
Il n'y a plus personne.
Mon âme qui s'affole,
En prenant son envol,
Me laisse inanimé.
Personne,
J'ai besoin, j'ai personne.
Mon être dégringole,
Tous mes sens m'abandonnent.
Je n'sais pas si j'ai peur.
Je regarde d'en haut,
Le corps de mon esprit.
Nos visages à l'envers,
Tout petit, tout petit.
Si Dieu existe,
Et qu'il t'aime,
Comme tu aimes
Les oiseaux.
Comme un fou, comme un ange.
Tu peux marcher
Enfin sur les étoiles,
Aspiré.
Comme un fou, comme un ange.
Personne,
Il n'y a plus personne.
Mon âme qui s'affole,
En prenant son envol,
Me laisse inanimé.
Personne,
J'ai besoin, j'ai personne.
Mon être dégringole.
Tous mes sens m'abandonnent.
Je n'sais pas si j'ai peur.
Tu regardes d'en haut,
Le corps de ton Esprit.
Nos visages à l'envers,
Tout petit, tout petit.
Si Dieu existe,
Et qu'il t'aime,
Comme tu aimes
Les oiseaux.
Comme un fou, comme un ange.
Tu peux marcher
Enfin sur les étoiles,
Aspiré.
Comme un fou, comme un ange.
Personne...
Il n'y a plus personne.
Mon âme qui s'affole,
En prenant son envol,
Me laisse inanimé.
Personne,
J'ai besoin, j'ai personne.
Mon être dégringole,
Tous mes sens m'abandonnent.
Je n'sais pas si j'ai peur.
Je regarde d'en haut,
Le corps de mon esprit.
Nos visages à l'envers,
Tout petit, tout petit.
Si Dieu existe,
Et qu'il t'aime,
Comme tu aimes
Les oiseaux.
Comme un fou, comme un ange.
Tu peux marcher
Enfin sur les étoiles,
Aspiré.
Comme un fou, comme un ange.
Personne,
Il n'y a plus personne.
Mon âme qui s'affole,
En prenant son envol,
Me laisse inanimé.
Personne,
J'ai besoin, j'ai personne.
Mon être dégringole.
Tous mes sens m'abandonnent.
Je n'sais pas si j'ai peur.
Tu regardes d'en haut,
Le corps de ton Esprit.
Nos visages à l'envers,
Tout petit, tout petit.
Si Dieu existe,
Et qu'il t'aime,
Comme tu aimes
Les oiseaux.
Comme un fou, comme un ange.
Tu peux marcher
Enfin sur les étoiles,
Aspiré.
Comme un fou, comme un ange.
Personne...
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Because human beings can get used to anything, even I tend to forget that not so long ago he was a whole person. There are days I have to stop to remember.
He's the one who used to make me "fly" as a kid by lying down on his back, with his legs up and parallel to the ground, and me lying on my stomach on the lower part of his legs.
He's the one who used to make me "walk" all around the kitchen by putting my tiny feet on his steel cap work boots.
He's the one who used to make "bad" KD because he didn't use enough milk and it wasn't the way I liked it.
He's the one who used to make the same bad jokes over and over again, like when he asked me who my favorite dad was.
He's the one who drove for 45 minutes to boost my car (hmm, actually, make it his car) after I'd forgotten the the lights on before heading to philosophy class. And of course, he drove for another whole 45 minutes to get back.
He's the one who would keep my car in working order; he's actually the one who would get me the car, fix it and sell it to me.
He's the one who drove half an hour to save the belly ring I'd dropped down the drain and was unable to get for lack of an appropriate tool. He's the first one who showed up when my washer emptied on my appartment floor one morning.
He's also the one who helped me move many, many times, once even almost in the middle of the night, each time swearing it was the last time. He's the one who drove 6 hours in one day three times in one week so I could find an appartment.
He's the one who used to casually ask my mother "So Quartz hasn't called" when he wanted her to dial me up and hand him the phone.
He's the one who used to be unbeatable at cribbage - that, he actually still is; he can still beat me while his vision is so bad he can barely see the cards and concentrate and he's depressed as hell.
He wasn't always this weak, desperate, sick being in constant pain who's looking for a reason and unable to accept the turn his life is taking. He used never to cry, although now crying is the first thing he does when I come home and the last thing he does when I leave.
He wasn't always lying still in a bed. He used to get up at dawn every morning to get to work and enjoy it, too. Just last year he kept saying he was looking forward to working again. Except it never happened.
He never saw my house. It would be okay if he hadn't wanted to so much.
He said last year, he was convinced he would make it, although the doctors said he wouldn't. And now my graduation is in two weeks and he won't be there.
We used to enjoy just hanging out together, sitting in front of the TV and chatting. He would talk to me about cars, about his job, and I would listen. And now he doesn't even have to strength to talk, and he doesn't give a damn about anything anyway, because he won't live to see June.
He's the one who used to make me "fly" as a kid by lying down on his back, with his legs up and parallel to the ground, and me lying on my stomach on the lower part of his legs.
He's the one who used to make me "walk" all around the kitchen by putting my tiny feet on his steel cap work boots.
He's the one who used to make "bad" KD because he didn't use enough milk and it wasn't the way I liked it.
He's the one who used to make the same bad jokes over and over again, like when he asked me who my favorite dad was.
He's the one who drove for 45 minutes to boost my car (hmm, actually, make it his car) after I'd forgotten the the lights on before heading to philosophy class. And of course, he drove for another whole 45 minutes to get back.
He's the one who would keep my car in working order; he's actually the one who would get me the car, fix it and sell it to me.
He's the one who drove half an hour to save the belly ring I'd dropped down the drain and was unable to get for lack of an appropriate tool. He's the first one who showed up when my washer emptied on my appartment floor one morning.
He's also the one who helped me move many, many times, once even almost in the middle of the night, each time swearing it was the last time. He's the one who drove 6 hours in one day three times in one week so I could find an appartment.
He's the one who used to casually ask my mother "So Quartz hasn't called" when he wanted her to dial me up and hand him the phone.
He's the one who used to be unbeatable at cribbage - that, he actually still is; he can still beat me while his vision is so bad he can barely see the cards and concentrate and he's depressed as hell.
He wasn't always this weak, desperate, sick being in constant pain who's looking for a reason and unable to accept the turn his life is taking. He used never to cry, although now crying is the first thing he does when I come home and the last thing he does when I leave.
He wasn't always lying still in a bed. He used to get up at dawn every morning to get to work and enjoy it, too. Just last year he kept saying he was looking forward to working again. Except it never happened.
He never saw my house. It would be okay if he hadn't wanted to so much.
He said last year, he was convinced he would make it, although the doctors said he wouldn't. And now my graduation is in two weeks and he won't be there.
We used to enjoy just hanging out together, sitting in front of the TV and chatting. He would talk to me about cars, about his job, and I would listen. And now he doesn't even have to strength to talk, and he doesn't give a damn about anything anyway, because he won't live to see June.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Because we have so much room in our new home, Raiontzukai and I decided it was time to get some plants. I never suspected it would be so complicated to find an plant that's not toxic for cats! It turns out they all pretty much are!
Because I'm lazy and don't have much time to do anything these days, I thought I would save myself all the complicated research and find a few plants that were not toxic and go with them.
It seems I'm gonna have to research the different degrees of toxicity in order to find plants that are only toxic when ingested in humongous quantities. And also try and figure out when I could actually place some plants so they would be out of the reach of Ouzo and Sambuca (seriously, have you even owned a cat? These guys get EVERYWHERE.)...
This blogger is a little disappointed.
Because I'm lazy and don't have much time to do anything these days, I thought I would save myself all the complicated research and find a few plants that were not toxic and go with them.
It seems I'm gonna have to research the different degrees of toxicity in order to find plants that are only toxic when ingested in humongous quantities. And also try and figure out when I could actually place some plants so they would be out of the reach of Ouzo and Sambuca (seriously, have you even owned a cat? These guys get EVERYWHERE.)...
This blogger is a little disappointed.
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