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mayalaenMy grandfather was an awful man who treated people like shit his entire life. He died last night, and I’m relieved.
More personal shit below the cut.
He cheated on his wife with a mistress their entire married life, having a child with the other woman, trying to force all of them to move into one house together (along with the woman’s other five children), and the woman was insane and was constantly harassing my grandmother. He was a huge racist, critical of everyone, impatient, pig-headed, and just plain mean. Never physically or sexually abusive, but mental/verbal.
Shithead was his nickname for me growing up. I’m serious. My mom thought she talked him out of it, but he’d just say it when mom wasn’t around, and I didn’t tell her about it because I didn’t care, and I always knew he was just an asshole. He could call me whatever he wanted -- I just didn’t care.
But the thing is he provided for everyone. He was a hard worker, nobody ever went hungry, and if you needed something, he’d bend over backward making it happen. In his own way, he loved his family.
So over the last couple years we’ve all been spending TONS of our time taking care of him. We’d take shifts because he wanted to die at home. He was really hard to deal with and over the last year he’s needed 24/7 care. We’ve all treated him nicely. In fact I doubt he’s ever treated anyone as nicely as we’ve treated him. The rest of us just aren’t like him, and we never abused him.
But he died last night, and it’s such a relief.
I don’t have to cringe anymore when I find out the nursing agency has sent over someone who is of ANY color besides his because there’s GOING to be racial slurs and jokes, and if it’s a woman, she’s GOING to hear lewd comments (nursing agencies have to deal with this a lot, not just from my grandfather). I don’t have to listen to him talk about how many women he’s going to fuck when he goes to heaven (he believes heaven is a place where everybody has sex all the time and he can have as many women as he wants). I don’t have to listen to the porn playing on his computer while I’m babysitting him and he turns the volume up, refusing to wear his hearing aid because it’s uncomfortable. I don’t have to nearly vomit as he refuses to wash his hands and uses his shit-covered hands to fish out food like cereal and potato chips.
It’s so weird to feel this way. I don’t have guilt issues (I’m not that type of person), so I’m not having a problem with it that way, but it’s strange to feel anticipation and then relief for someone’s death, because I’m just not a vengeful person. And this isn’t revenge, I just want him out of our lives. I want to be done.
It’s a relief that he’s gone, but there’s this odd feeling I can’t explain hanging over me. My family is ridiculously close, and a good portion of my family lives within half a mile of each other, so he’s always been there, always been this cloud hanging over our heads, the thing we have to worry about, the thing that wouldn’t go away.
It’s over, and I don’t think it’s set in yet.
~Maya
More personal shit below the cut.
He cheated on his wife with a mistress their entire married life, having a child with the other woman, trying to force all of them to move into one house together (along with the woman’s other five children), and the woman was insane and was constantly harassing my grandmother. He was a huge racist, critical of everyone, impatient, pig-headed, and just plain mean. Never physically or sexually abusive, but mental/verbal.
Shithead was his nickname for me growing up. I’m serious. My mom thought she talked him out of it, but he’d just say it when mom wasn’t around, and I didn’t tell her about it because I didn’t care, and I always knew he was just an asshole. He could call me whatever he wanted -- I just didn’t care.
But the thing is he provided for everyone. He was a hard worker, nobody ever went hungry, and if you needed something, he’d bend over backward making it happen. In his own way, he loved his family.
So over the last couple years we’ve all been spending TONS of our time taking care of him. We’d take shifts because he wanted to die at home. He was really hard to deal with and over the last year he’s needed 24/7 care. We’ve all treated him nicely. In fact I doubt he’s ever treated anyone as nicely as we’ve treated him. The rest of us just aren’t like him, and we never abused him.
But he died last night, and it’s such a relief.
I don’t have to cringe anymore when I find out the nursing agency has sent over someone who is of ANY color besides his because there’s GOING to be racial slurs and jokes, and if it’s a woman, she’s GOING to hear lewd comments (nursing agencies have to deal with this a lot, not just from my grandfather). I don’t have to listen to him talk about how many women he’s going to fuck when he goes to heaven (he believes heaven is a place where everybody has sex all the time and he can have as many women as he wants). I don’t have to listen to the porn playing on his computer while I’m babysitting him and he turns the volume up, refusing to wear his hearing aid because it’s uncomfortable. I don’t have to nearly vomit as he refuses to wash his hands and uses his shit-covered hands to fish out food like cereal and potato chips.
It’s so weird to feel this way. I don’t have guilt issues (I’m not that type of person), so I’m not having a problem with it that way, but it’s strange to feel anticipation and then relief for someone’s death, because I’m just not a vengeful person. And this isn’t revenge, I just want him out of our lives. I want to be done.
It’s a relief that he’s gone, but there’s this odd feeling I can’t explain hanging over me. My family is ridiculously close, and a good portion of my family lives within half a mile of each other, so he’s always been there, always been this cloud hanging over our heads, the thing we have to worry about, the thing that wouldn’t go away.
It’s over, and I don’t think it’s set in yet.
~Maya