i'm back

after a very trying week. family reunions, especially ones with aunts and uncles burdened with the histories thrust on them like the ones my dead dead grandfather perpetuated, are exhausting. my grandfather wasn't an evil man exaclty; he was a man, conditioned into a violent and isolating role, furthered by his involvement in the military, where he stormed the beach at Normandy
crawled over the bodies of his dead friends
his jaw blown off

he returned to the states a different person, now an irishman taken to his hereditary lust- alcohol. it drove him to all sorts of lengths, abusive lengths, a diverse abusive. let's not ennumerate. my mother, one of ten children, suffered at his drunken, angry hand.

wouldn't you be mad if your jaw was blown off? i'm not sure that qualifies destroying the lives of your ten children. and your wife.

he's dead. may he have found peace.

nonetheless, there are plenty of living people to gawk at as they play out the damage the dead have caused. my uncle, for instance, is scared shitless of love. and of being out of control. and of powerful women. he noticed my mother had some power- ok, so she was being a little ridiculous at some points, but she organized the whole damn thing- and he began to systematically attack her. she cried over and over but did not let down. i was proud of her. it was over a PHOTOGRAPHY session, for fucks sake, it was NOTHING- but he couldn't stand not having the power. couldn't let his little sister have photos taken of their elderly parents (my grandma remarried). he FLIPPED HER OFF in front of everyone. So, i pulled out the big guns...

and hit him where it hurts. he hates my father with a passion; i told him he was just like my dad, and that he was the reason Mama married Papa. he looked at me like he was gonna smack me and told me to be quiet. i love being able to get someone like that- you don't make my mama cry and not pay.

i love him though, and apologized later, he seemed to have almost more problem with my compassion than with my anger. i have pity for him- he feels so unloved, unloveable, unhappy.

I, on the other hand, am feeling a whole lot better about my life. i'm getting great support and feel as though my male centric behavior patterns are shifting... it feels good after a good two weeks of deep depression. yeh. fuck that. i'm still sad, but it's a happy sort of sad.