Prozac and Whimsy

My aunt died at the start of the year and I span out of control in a few different ways all at once. My grandparents are all gone and the families have drifted apart without the anchors holding them all in place. I am now at the age where the next generation of family are dying. My aunts and uncles are slowly being scattered to the winds which in turn means the time I have left with my dad is getting shorter and shorter with every passing month, week, day and hour.

Because, that’s how time works isn’t it?

The relationship I have with my dad is better now than it ever has been. We speak every few days, we go to visit him, he comes to stay with us, he comes on our holidays and me and him go away together as well. As already mentioned I carry a lot of guilt around with me on a daily basis but the time I lost not knowing who he really was as a person isn’t part of it yet.

I joke about it now but I genuinely spent the first half of my life desperately trying to be anything other than like him. My childhood wasn’t great. He was always the bad guy in everything that went on. Everything bad that happened was his fault. It’s only as the same things happened to me that I realised that was the role he played as that’s the best he could have done or us. He was far, far, from innocent in it all but my mother was, and probably still is, an abusive, manipulative piece of work. She played the victim to his affairs because no one knew about hers, and when I caught her in the act I was sworn to secrecy under the threat of tearing the family apart. I was twelve and didn’t tell a soul about this until I was well in my thirties and in counselling.

Dad left her in 98. I was 19 and in freefall with my own world of troubles. We didn’t see each other or speak properly again for years. Mother kicked me out and made me homeless for the first time in 99 an act she would repeat in 05. I had seen dad a handful of times in-between most notably at each other’s weddings were we both married women with the same name and then both left them shortly after.

It was in 05 that our relationship started to be rebuilt. I was bouncing from place to place in a whirlwind of chaos. Bringing misery and trouble to everyone’s door and outstaying my welcome everywhere. I was staying at my gran’s, dad’s mum’s, house and he sent a key to his front door with a note saying I am always welcome at his… and his address as I didn’t know where he was living at the time.

A lot of where and who I am now is down to Sals but the relationship I have with my dad is entirely down to her. She lost her dad shortly before I met her and encouraged the pair of us to keep in contact, to visit each other and has pushed us slowly but surely closer and closer over the years. If I thanked her every minute of every hour of every day until the end of time it still wouldn’t be enough for what she has done to both my and dad’s lives.

So I can’t feel guilty for the lost years as what we have now is so much better.

Aside from realising that my dad is getting old one of the other things that threw me is how she died. She had a heart condition that meant she was fitted with a defib to keep her up and running and she chose to not have a new one fitted knowing she was going to die as the battery ran out. I have bradycardia and have a pacemaker that was plumbed in the day before my 40th birthday (more on that another day) I was told that the wiring would last 14 years, the battery 7 (the current one is 6 years old and still going strong) but essentially every 7ish years I’ll be given a new device and then every other device I’d have a full refit. One day I am going to have to make the same decision and resign myself to a death you’ll be able to pencil in to an accuracy of weeks if not days.

I’ve been comfortable with my mortality ever since my neighbour hanged herself aged 13. I say comfortable when what I really mean is I have lived with the knowledge that I would probably die by my own hand since I was 14 and was shown that suicide was an option. Counselling and a heart condition showed me that this isn’t true and in fact that life is precious and beautiful and should be lived to the best as we can every day. So this new realisation really rocked me and I felt fragile and old, and I still do now.

The other big thing that made me wobble was she had a no attendance cremation. We’re not a close family, no one sends cards at Christmas, we don’t know when people’s birthdays are. We meet up at the three classics, weddings, christenings and funerals. All of us are married now, some of us more than once. My generation aren’t christening their kids and now not having a funeral is an option.

We have tried to speak to my dad about his funeral and will for a while now. I have told him that I wouldn’t fight my sister for any of it if she tried any shenanigans. He always fobbed us off and said he needed to think about it all but the loss of his sister has stirred something within him and he has plans and wishes and a will all in place. Which takes us back to point one. My dad is getting old and our time is limited. I wasted half of my life adrift from him and as good as our relationship is now I know that is going to be a regret that stings for a long time and all I can hope is that it is one that doesn’t rear it’s head for a long while yet.