The Death of a Disliked Family Member

I got into a car accident the day before yesterday. I think it may be karma beating my *ss.




My uncle died the day before my accident.

And I could care less.

And I feel somewhat ashamed of that.

See, this man tortured and molested his siblings. He did drugs and even at one time was a pimp that prostituted his own cousin. He’d been in and out of jail, in and out of drug rehab programs.

His stint as a reformed preacher didn’t last long.

He beat the crap out of his sister’s children and who knows what else.

Some years ago when my son was staying with my mom (and I was away at training) I found out he was living there. That my mom was allowing him to stay, but the kids had to keep their doors locked at night. That she kept a bat for if he came in “crazy” off of alcohol and stolen/bought prescription drugs.

At my grandmother’s wake he stood on a pew and took pictures laughing as he put his baseball cap on her dead body.

“I gotta laugh or I’ll cry.” But he still did. From guilt of how he treated her and others that for better or worse were his family.

I’m praying that the funeral is during the week so that I’m not expected to show (can’t take the time off). I don’t want to have to show up, and pretend that I don’t feel relieved that my cousins don’t have to deal with a horrible excuse for a father.

I ashamed, but it doesn’t change anything. My eyes are dry. I can laugh and joke with people. I’ve only mentioned his passing to my son and my boss. My day has not stopped, or changed course.

Am I horrible? Or just being true?


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