Dear Blog – Once Open, Seen, Unforgotten!
In truth, l didn’t have the choice to decline the task and in the same breath, l wanted the job because l didn’t want my Sister fluffing it up. Also, she didn’t want the job, under any circumstances she didn’t want the boring task of rifling through my Father’s paperwork. At her own concession she is not a reader, an furthermore doesn’t want to nor has she ever read any of my Father’s self-published novels to date. She would say “Don’t know why he bothered, he’s not famous, therefore he has nothing of value to say!”
I beg to differ with that statement quite profoundly – l think my Father did have something to say, and in the case of his fiction stories he expresses many of those things very well. His autobiography pre-marriage is worthwhile reading, yes he does lie a bit there as well, so nothing new, during and post marriage reading, not so brilliant, but of course, that’s me saying that as his Son, and to those who did know the truth about my Father – as in who he was, what he believed in and didn’t and what he stood for and also didn’t. Whilst others oblivious to him, would never know the difference and would be as they were in absolute awe and utter fascination with his adventures.
My Father did lead an active life, he crammed quite a lot into it and there were episodes in his life that he was immensely proud of. However, he was never a happy man, and for those of you following the My Father in Reflection series, you will know that examples of him being at his absolute happiness were found when he was serving in the RAAF. But he didn’t enjoy much more of his life. he wasn’t the thoughtful loving caring husband he made himself out to be, nor was he a doting loving Father to his children, although he treated his Daughter like a princess and yet treated his Son as if he were a pauper.
His diaries were somewhat boring , and what l didn’t discard l kept for current reading, because from the mid 70’s he started to pen his thoughts in larger diaries and with the aid of a magnifying glass l can actually read his scrawl, which as l have said before is at least cursive scrawl and way better than my mismatched penmanship.
His estate administrations were not so much a fascinating read, but more of interesting and damning read as well as intriguing and baffling at times. The man was a distinct paper hoarder and whilst he did what he could to save the tiger, he cared not two whits for the likes of perhaps recycling and the decimation of our forests! That is, however through experience the way of the world l have found of a lot of ‘eco conservationalists who only really hyperfocus on parts of conservation, and care very little for other parts.
My Father’s Pandora Box
I feel sure many of you are familiar with the story of Pandora’s Box, which principally breaks down into ‘a source of great and unexpected troubles’, or in simpler and more crude terms, once you open it, you might not like what you see and can never close it again. As in the seen is seen and cannot be unseen!
You may further recall, seeing this image above before in one of my Dear Blog episodes in October of last year, as in this displays clearly the entire administration of my Father’s estate. His stories, diaries, letters, novels, bank statements and general paperwork of everything to do with my Father.
I prepred the probate paperwork from his bank statements for the solicitor, and especially the last seven years as in legal requirements for gifting, but in addition to those seven years l read every single bank statement from 2018 – 2000. It was something l now wish l hadn’t done.
You see, l am currently carrying around in addition to my own stress load an absolute disgust and displeasure at the relationship between my Father and my Sister, and the confirmation of the previously mentioned ‘princess vrs. pauper‘, attitude that she held and my Father didn’t squash but only fuelled further, for whatever reason.
I don’t know if my Father actually truly hated me, but it comes pretty close to it at times, perhaps he despised me for my honesty and truth and of course for my knowledge and memories of what and who he really was. Whereas my Sister for the recompense of financial support rejected any of her previous memories about her Father’s behaviour when we lived together as a family.
My Sister must think me stupid or a fool, and l remember clearly a comment from her to me in 2014, when l suggested that our Father was on the Autistic Spectrum, and that did she perhaps think that her Son, from the little l knew of him, was also on there? She found this question as an outright despicable attack on our Father and her Son? Her response was and l quote “Our Father is a great, great man – you can never even come remotely close to walking in his footsteps, because you are a silly retarded man who uses this nonsense of Asperger’s as an excuse to live life!”
Phew, pretty sterm words l thought at the time, but l wasn’t shocked, because l had already heard those words, almost to the I and T from my Father when l suggested to him in 2012 that l believed he was also on the spectrum because of the very nature of his behaviour.
But of course in his eyes, l was being rude to him, because he considered me retarded and stupid, and that if l was suggesting that he had Asperger’s also, then l was calling him retarded as well.
I have never called anyone that not even in jest, plus l have never used my Asperger’s as an excuse to live my life or not. I have Asperger’s, l sit on the spectrum of autism, but it is just a part of me, it’s not all of me. I had Asperger’s when l wasn’t diagnosed, and all the latter did was answer some very poignant questions l had on my life. It’s who l am, and l have accepted it into my life, it helped me understand who l was … finally something was able to award me logical answers to my own quirkyness!
But having opened my Father’s box, it has in the process damaged me, not being overly dramatic but it has. I cannot even for the sake of ‘peace’ and to get the task ahead of me as in the final throes of my Father’s estate [the boxing up] host the thought of working in the same environment as my Sister.
Since Dad’s death l have gone in and started to break down the house readying it for entry onto the sales market, where has my Sister been? No where, she couldn’t do it. But now she wants to work with me in a couple of weekends time together boxing stuff. Which l know she will not do, she wants me there to make it easier on her. Because when l set my mind on a project l don’t stop till it’s done. But with everything l have now seen and read l have a volcanic anger floating in my head with regards that woman. If she was to say something remotely sarcastic l would fly off the handle and fire six barrels of truth and reality into her make believe fantasy world. Which might not be helpful.
I cannot even think of being under the same roof with her, that’s where my anger is at concerning my Sister. Who only wants me there to do the heavy shit whilst she foo foo’s around with pixie dust for all l know! She has had all this time to attend to the content of our Father’s house for months and hasn’t once lifted her hands to anything practical. Even when l emailed her the list of all jobs before Christmas which held lots of smaller jobs, she has done nothing.
I have enough problems of my own and more so with the decline of power in my right arm, but l have enough adrenaline and gritted teeth determination and energy reserves to get on with a last major boxing session before surgery sometime later this month or early next. So plan to go up there on the night of the Saturday 12th and stay till Tuesday 15th armed with loads of boxes and l will work till the bloody job is done. Suze will help me briefly on the Saturday, and pick me up again on the Tuesday evening. By which time the house should be 100% boxed up. But l will not tell my Sister until l am literally about to start the job in hand.
I am lucky l guess, l can work like an automated robot when l need to, so don’t need that much sleep, plus l do work better by myself and with my arm problems whilst it’s not an ideal situation, isn’t that what the surgery is about? Repairing the damage, so if l strain it a bit more and have more pain, at least it will get fixed.
My Sister wants to work as a couple on the 19th/20th of this month, but l don’t play the silly games other people play in so far as for the ‘sake of getting the job done and keeping the peace’, and less so when l know l will be the one in the main doing it anyway, arm injury or not. But with this volatile anger, l cannot under any circumstances work with that woman!
As said l didn’t have the choice, not really of not opening this box, it was either open it and face the consequences or let my Sister basically fuck it all up, and perhaps have the tax people freeze the estate whilst they sorted out her lies, because she most assuredly would have lied with regards the paperwork and the truth. I wish Dad had taken my advice in 2015 and paid the £175 to the solicitors to handle all the administrations. Whilst my Sister and l most likely wouldn’t be friends, l might not have ended up hating who she too had become.
Have you ever been in that situation? When you carry such an anger for someone that you know a volcano would erupt if you found yourself in the same vicinity?