August is a difficult month. I dread it every year. First there’s the impending doom and then there’s the realization of said doom.
And it’s all about today… August 25th.
Today is my father’s birthday. After many months of conflicting conditions with conflicting treatments, my dad died in 2012. It was not a surprise but that didn’t make it any easier. I’m forever grateful for my mom’s updates and her intuition because she (amazingly) told me I should come down and visit dad that one weekend… and two days later, he was gone. Somehow, she knew. And I think he knew, too. The night before he died, he didn’t want to let go of mom’s hand. She is convinced it was because he knew.
Dad and I were never close. I’m sure that’s part of the reason his death hit me so hard. We disagreed on many things… and he never understood me. But we laughed together and visited interesting places together and had some really amazing talks. He was always full of stories from his earlier life in Italy. And stories about moving to the US to finish medical school – but first, traveling all over this country. In a car. Which he also slept in. After removing the front passenger seat to create a makeshift bed. He taught himself how to speak English by watching television. He was kind of a genius. Mom says that’s where I get it.
Today is also my eldest sister’s birthday. I always that that was pretty cool – born on Dad’s birthday. So today also makes me think of her. But the thing is… she is a colossal bitch. We shall call her B. Ever since I can remember, she’s been a bitch. She ruined Christmas for me when I was six. She always teased me about anything she could think of – just me, not my other two sisters. I don’t know how she managed to make me feel so terrible… I was smarter, more talented, and hell, more popular and prettier, too. And she has small boobs.
Yet through it all, I was nice to her… even going out of my way to do things for her – things she didn’t even ask for. Big things, little things. And she never thanked me for anything. Instead, she made me miserable.
When I was a kid, my parents would say, ‘she doesn’t mean it… she’s just teasing.’ As the years passed, though, the real reason became obvious. She was jealous. And that blows my mind since currently, my life is a disaster!
Mom and I came to realize that B’s first marriage was a hurried decision because she was afraid my then-boyfriend and I might get married before she could. And she’s the oldest… she had to be first. Months before her second wedding, I had my first child. She resents me for that. Apparently, I was supposed to put my life on hold until she did everything first. How could I be so heartless?
Almost seven years ago… she stopped speaking to me. It was a family gathering. I greeted her when I arrived but she walked away without a word. And that was it. (Oh, but when she left that day, she made a scene… blaming me for her not speaking to me.)
A day or two later, I received an email from her… the most horribly cruel email I’ve ever received in my life. It detailed everything about me she hated. And it was ridiculous. She mentioned stuff like me interrupting her in conversation, for fuck’s sake! She mentioned my “overreaction” to her announcing her pregnancy at my son’s first birthday party. (By the way, she basically took over the whole event, talking about herself for the rest of the afternoon. She is such an attention whore she stole attention from a BABY.)
She said she was tired of having to walk on eggshells around me to spare my feelings. (Pot, kettle, black.) She has never spared my feelings in her life! Hell, one of her problems with me was ‘I interrupted her’! Fucking eggshells. Suck it! She was cruel to me. No eggshells there (except the ones up her ass). In fact, me and Mom and my other sisters – we had to be careful around her!
She concluded her email with, “Don’t bother to respond because I’ve already blocked your email.” Yeah, dumbass, I can create a new email address whenever the fuck I want. But I wasn’t going to play. Fuck her. She never came to another family gathering again. Such a relief! I didn’t have to look at her bitch face. This remains the nicest thing she’s ever done for me. Yet she thought she was hurting me. Moron. She was only hurting Mom and Dad and Grandma. Bitch.
I’ve seen her twice since her self-imposed exile. My dad’s funeral and my grandma’s funeral. I tried to say hello… but the moment she saw me coming, she turned away. Honestly, a relief.
Oh… she doesn’t speak to my younger sister anymore either. No idea why. It’s got to be some petty, insignificant shit. Because she is petty.
When I was 15 years old, my cousin Stephen took his own life. On August 25th. He was 16 years old. I wrote a post about this but never published. But I will. I think it’s important. For me. And maybe for others, too. But I will leave it at this for now.
So… I’m not a huge fan of August. This isn’t about sympathy or anything like that. But maybe it explains why, lately, I’ve been having some writing struggles… and having meltdowns… and being such a bitch. My apologies… on all counts…