Twin Sister Number One called this morning.
Her father, my stepfather, is dying. Will die. Soon.
I'm feeling quite a peculiar mix of emotions, none of which is exactly sorrow. She says she feels nothing.
Imagine what hell for children might be. That was our childhood, except as far as I know, none of us was sexually abused.
The story has only one moral: alcoholism is a bad, bad thing for everyone involved.
Update: And later in the day he died, never having regained consciousness. Because the family was not allowed in ICU during certain hours, everyone had gone home to take a break.
And so he died alone.
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4 comments:
Bitty: I came over to say thanks for your comments on my (sparse) recent posts. It's nice to know you're out there reading. And I love the Brad-and-Angelina dream! But I also want to say, sorry, about what I just read in your post--about feeling no sorrow about this death, and all that is connected to that.
How difficult and confusing.
Take care in these ambiguous times.
Thank you both for the comments. I'll blog more later on this, but I do feel great pity for a life so totally thrown away...and its passing not much mourned.
Dear Bitty:
I will not send you condolences, but I do hope that your mother is not sad. In Memoriam--for everything.
Alanna
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