John

Some things will never change. From the moment that I met my Mother's boyfriend I never liked him. There was an uneasy feeling that I had about the way he carried himself and over the years he proved true every inhibition that I had. I guess you can say that the feeling was mutual and that we never got past that intense disgust for one another. When my Mother passed suddenly almost two years ago now, tensions were high. My Mother was quite basically the sole means of support to this man and though she was not a rich woman, she managed through her means to carry him through the greater portion of the last several years. I hated him for the times that he beat her, for the times that he talked to her like she was garbage and for the many tear-stricken phone calls that she had shared with me at the cause of his hand. I hated the way that she would tip-toe on eggshells and the fact that she kept up with him only because the thought of being alone or starting over was too great for her to bear. I felt robbed when she was instantly gone and he kept crying to everyone about the grief that he felt, but secretly assumed that my Mother meant nothing more to me then a few worldly possessions and that I was not hurting at all.
I tried, right after she had passed, to befriend him. I felt sorry for all the discord between us over the years and I wanted to have someone to cry with. My children knew this man as their grandfather and I guess on some level I had hoped that I could maintain that relationship for their benefit. What a loss to my children to lose their Grandmother and to suffer the loss of him as a consequence was unbearable and I didn't want it to be that way.
I got a lot of pressure from persons in my family, with their own agenda I would later find out, to settle things quickly as I would have to be leaving the state again soon and this time for good. I know it must have been hard for him, but it was hard for me too. It was surreal to have her gone and it was even harder to watch him pilfer through her belongings and make comments on how he was going to give them to other people. These were not his things to give away and frankly I lost it. Legally I could have had the police remove him from that house and I could have removed everything, but all I really wanted was the things that belonged to my Mother and had been passed down to her over the years. In the end, I didn't even get that. I didn't fight the stuff with the courts, I felt like I went out of my way to make it easier on him and to just let it go - and he has no idea what concessions I actually made for him. He just hates me.
I was settled with the thought that I would never speak to this man again. Hard as it has been to grieve alone and walk forward without barely a shred of my Mother left to existence, I had done just that.
Prior to my Mother dying she had told me about my Uncle Bobby having lung cancer and that he was going to die. She explained to me that he didn't want anyone to know, but that she wanted to prepare me for it in a sense. I spoke to his oldest daughter the other day and she had mentioned it to me again... and so I conceded and called him. I wanted just to let him know that I loved him and I wanted to hear his voice. During our conversation he indicated to me that My Mother's boyfriend had wanted me to contact him and so I made arrangements to do that today. I should have left well enough alone. He only wanted me to call so that he could verbally abuse me and try to make me feel worse. My nightmare continues.