ashes and flames

Page One hundred twenty-two

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monday 25 february 2013

hello, small, stalwart clutch of readers…

I come, sorry to say, with no good news.

I am supposed to be in mourning now. I am in mourning, but not so much for the matter people (even you) expect  me to be grieving for.

less than twelve hours ago, I learned that one of my siblings is dead, and has been dead for some days. the youngest of us. and all will agree that I’m supposed to be mourning this loss. please remember that I am not average, or even normal, as people are constantly telling me. please also remember that I have asperger’s, which produces in me an outlook skewed off from the common neurotypical.

phone call by phone call I learned new pieces. the first phone call only told me death, as the date of death was not yet known. said date seems to have been tuesday 19 february. I wonder will that info change.

…(so many years I’ve been wandering a-stagger among the ugly, damaging, high-flown dramas created by my blood relations. every time I decide we are all too old for anymore such nightmares to be engendered, voilá… someone makes a new one. or, more rarely, the stinking randomness of living makes one)

since I’m a dogged devotee of truth, be it ugly, pretty or betwixt, I might as well cut to the chase and say that I no longer feel any love for this sibling. not for years. not in the psychological and behavioral configuration that this sibling adopted fifteen or so years ago. and phone call by call, I was given more reasons last night to resent and rage at this individual, now no longer alive.

this person had an alcohol problem for many years. alcohol costs money in large quantities, and is bad for the health. there was also a long-standing gambling issue, which costs money. and gourmandising on only the best restaurant food (another lifelong pursuit). there was apparently yet another finance-draining addiction that I never knew about, and that I’m too disgusted and ashamed to name. and since this person was in possession of our family home, they had the power to squander money on addictions, get very sick and unable to work, fail to keep up mortgage and make more than one refinancing arrangement, and fail to keep up payments, and lose our family home. this happened ten months ago, but I was only told last night. they never would have told me if the sibling had lived, because they are a right gaggle of cowards, and always have been. they knew my pain and my anger would be great, and they were too sissified to face it. this also rankles, as I’ve had to put up with temper and insanity and lies and all manner of other ugliness from blood relations all my days, but they can’t put up with my grief, or anger, or anything else.

my father’s house, which he wanted to have stay in the family, the very boards and bricks of which are imbued with his decades of labor at them, is gone to booze, bets, belly, and even more shameful addiction number three. my father’s house, which was taken away from me and my daughter in favor of this other sibling, which I desperately wanted to see stay in the family, is gone to the selfish, hedonistic obsessions of a liar and con-artist. and this person, in the days when we still spoke, was quite proud of being able to con people. and that’s only reason number one that I do not grieve the death overmuch.

on the other hand, I grieve greatly and in fury the loss of our family home, my dad’s house. purchased in 1958 by a young married couple with a very sick child (me, of course) who had to be got away from the dampness of the lakeside house we had, and foreclosed on because of an addict in 2012. I grieve. I rage. I deplore.

if there is a sibling to mourn, it is a long-lost configuration that existed for no more than thirty or so years… out of the fifty-five years and three months that this person lived.

… to assign the nightmares, the flames of drama that yield the ashes that yield yet another set of flames until, I guess, the moment of my own death… to assign the newest nightmares to their categories: the loss of the house one of the myriad high, ugly dramas created in my life by one of my blood relations; the death itself, and the fact that it was not discovered for some five days, might belong to the beastly randomness of living category. it might.

I look now at what I know about this person’s entire life (and I don’t know all of it, to be sure), and over and over again I think on a phone conversation between us in the mid-90’s. this person had the unmitigated nerve (always had this) to hold forth with a speech to the effect that they had always expected me, with my “talent and brains and education,” to do something really significant with my life, to succeed greatly, to be the “flagship” of the nakis family. and what a “disappointment” it was that I had got sick and ended up on disability (the implication was: such a failure). but I did not fail, financially or otherwise, because of booze and bets and belly (and the nameless thing). I failed because of physical illness, and I think, because of asperger’s, because of never fitting in anywhere. and the other thing? the other thing is that my siblings have easily as much quantifiable IQ as do I, and an equal share of talent to mine, if in some different directions. so why did this troll lay it on me alone to be the great success, to be the family’s “flagship?” why wasn’t it equally lain on the other siblings themselves? why was I yet again singled out for the blame and the shame? I compare our two failed lives and state: my failures were made in good faith, in spite of many strenuous efforts, and I have striven to live as clean, decent and honorable a life as possible (according to my personal definitions of such things), even if weird, even if asperger-oddball. I can’t say the same for the lost one, the proud con artist.

if you think me horrible for these emotions, lack of other emotions, for telling such a type of truth, then that’s what you think.

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all photos, graphics, poems and text copyright 2009-2013 by anne nakis, unless otherwise stated. all rights reserved.

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2 Comments

  1. dori said,

    February 26, 2013 at 12:33 am

    I’m so sorry to hear about your family home. I completely understand your rage (and despair?). We feel what we feel when people die – I don’t believe there are any ‘shoulds’ about that. All I felt when my mother died was relief. Like I said, it felt like a stalker had left my life. And that made sense given our relationship. So your feelings make sense given your relationship too.

  2. braon said,

    February 26, 2013 at 1:12 pm

    Dori… thanks for your empathy. others have read this post and gone off without a like or a comment. no doubt my emotions are “wrong” to them. perhaps they are hedonists too, who care about nothing but their own oral, anal, stomach, genital and adrenal satisfaction. or perhaps they are just new-agey “forgive, forgive” people.


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