Oct 6

 I quieted yesterday. No constant churning of thoughts.

Went for a swim.

Got a message from my brother. News about mom. Are you available for a teams meeting at 6.30pm.

It must be the autopsy.

Slightly naughty of my brother. He perhaps at least should have prefaced it with no bad news.

I could only imagine that you'd declare a meeting about the autopsy if it was truly an issue. If it wasn't, why the meeting.

As it turns out the autopsy found that my mom died of pneumonia. That she wasn't on end of life care, and that it was a "surprise", says a lot about the care in her observation. Again a repeat of earlier in the year, where they were largely unalarmed by the horrible state of her breathing, and I, having raised it, a short time later they finally raise the alarm.

Negligence you might say. Mmm. I think this is where reality meets the road and like a lot of things in life it depends how you frame it, and who has an axe to grind or trauma to work through. No one can be eternally vigilant. Routine dulls vigilance like nothing else. And. There is a well worn practice of end of life carers very quietly, very subtly, allowing their charges to slip away. Callousness or kindness ? How far do you prolong the suffering.

Tricky.

In the end, there is no real fault there I think. Even though. Perhaps. Being a stickler for it. There is. There is no way she should have "surprise" died from pneumonia whilst in 24/7 care.

My friend has an anecdote, his aunt used to be some head of nursing or other for the entire UK NHS. And she had stories to tell of how they basically put people out of their misery. By leaving cold windows open for lengths of time so bouts of pneumonia would follow in those too far gone to do anything with.

A very secret, secret.

The reality underneath the facade.

My brother noted that the parents had already paid for a hearse and a service and yada. But that this was not what my dad ( and allegedly my mom ) wanted anymore. He was taking suggestions as to what to do with that.

I gave my spiel. How epically shit we were about coming together. The important of support. Of closure. The dysfunctional lessons of the older generation.

On my soapbox.

My sister was uncomfortable with a funeral. She could not deal with the sight of it. Honest. But. Underlying that. An inability to deal with emotion and grief. Better to be controlled. Throttled. Bottled.

Sigh.

The scars of our upbringing.

But she thought having some kind of wake or something was a good idea.

I said the notion of a coming together was not necessarily a funeral. But anything.

So. We've agreed to pull the entire family together, some, 25 ish people, the remaining blood kin of my mom, altogether.

Which means I don't have to struggle to get that done.

Afterwards I felt awkward about getting up on my soapbox. How crazy was I. It's also a side of me that my siblings never see.

I talked to my brother a little before my sister turned up. As you tend to do in stupid online meetings.

We talked about the old man.

He was cold, my brother said. Cold and uncaring. We know that he said.

No.

He is not cold. He cannot deal with emotion. He controls it. Avoids it. If necessary turns it into rage. You can see it if you look. I went on for a while about how it manifests, his words, the signs. I also noted that we all had been raised in that environment.

The interesting part.

He thought he was to a greater extent immune. Because he had been raised by our grandma til the age of 11. Whereas I had been raised entirely in that environment. And that I was the worst of us. Or at least, had the worst of it.

I said I thought the opposite was true. That my brother was slowly changing, but, that tight lockdown was still there. My sister turned up at this point.

It seems pretty clear to me, my brother doesn't see it. I have sat with his wife and let her pour everything out, empathised with her, held her hand whilst she cried. I can't do this with (my brother) she said. He struggles to deal with it. His kids are at a distance. He has self acknowledged this. A confession to me. Also that he has always felt like he didn't have a family. Quote. Unquote.

He doesn't realise that it's not a product of just my dads upbringing here. But also of our mom. And here's the kicker. Also of our grandma. In fact, a lot of my moms dysfunction can be traced directly to her mom. Her dad, by her own words was lovely. Caring. Soft. Her mom. Was the opposite. And it was she who taught her not to hug. Not to show love. Intimacy. Because that was false.

My brother was raised absolutely in that toxicity.

He does not realise it. And has a very rose tinted perspective of our grandma.

A pause here.

Here is a broken piece of the puzzle. You could slowly fix it. And let that part of the picture be better. Breathe. Grow. Be clear.

Or.

You could let sleeping dogs lie.

I am not sure, pulling that comforting rug out from under my brother, the illusion that all is well with my grandma, and the sins lie in my parents, would be a mercy. Yes, it would let that lie sit there. Give out bad advice. Bad wisdom. Colour the perspective of everything around it. But at this point in life. He is 62, his kids are fully grown. Does it matter ? How much harm can that view point do ? How much security does he get from his worldview being anchored to that.

I can see it.

I'm not going to challenge it.

But it does mean his visibility to his self will always be foggy. There will be a point he cannot progress past.

I am not sure he needs to. It is enough.

People invariably slot in at the level they find comfort at. Stuck. In their beliefs.

It is I think, in the end, an easy kindness to leave him be. Even though, personally, emotionally, it grates. Like nails down a chalkboard. The idolising of someone, that was a key part of the dysfunction of our mom. This fracture has always been here. Always a sensitive point. But something not talked about for decades. My mom knew of it in some form. She also knew the poison that my grandma could be. My dad for his part also knew. He would tell me like daughter like mother. And that my mom slowly went the same way. He said that to me as a teenager. It was interesting that both my mom and day were a lot more clued up about each others faults, and largely blind to their own.

I guess thats how it goes. At worst we can all be like that.

Anyway.

Having talked about moms arrangements yesterday. My brain would not let me sleep. Tick. Tock. What to do. What to say. Plotting the possibilities. Meh. Fuck off already. I got up and prepared bread for the following day. If I can't sleep. I will prep bread.

Still couldn't sleep.

Today I am awake. Tired. Not much sleep. Today is going to be one of those burner days. Snooze. Sleep. Time will flash by. And when I blink again, it will be evening.