So a relative died this week, suddenly. He wasn't close, and we weren't close. In fact, I don't know I ever spoke to him at all. But the service was today (Saturday), and I thought either my parents and/or I should go anyway. Shoot, it was my folks who told me this news over dinner earlier in the week.
Naturally, because I thought it was the right thing to do (and I might be throwing too much information at you, but I learned these "manners" through watching 80's sitcoms and not my parents), I said in response to this surprise news that maybe I should go to this service. But Mother didn't think it was a good idea. I mean, really did not think it was a good idea. She was shaking her head to my thought as if she was being possessed. Father, meanwhile, did not say anything, and he looked like he really wanted to.
See, I have been able to cast my parents into buckets, psychological roles for a while now. But during this dinner things flipped on their heads. Usually it's Father acting like My Fucking Father, nagging on me to go back to school and find a good job, goals he thinks I could do with the push of a button when IRL finding both is difficult and fraught with danger. Mother has her blow-ups, but usually she's the calm, tame one, the parent who approaches things basically by saying "no big deal." So it was very odd that My Fucking Mother took the initiative on what appears to be a very easy decision regarding a somber event while Father took a back seat, following instead of leading. This dynamic was the one I saw my folks operate on when I was a child; I loved, even adored my meek dad while I feared and thus loathed my imperious mother.
Anyway, I was not happy with her "recommendation" that I don't go. So I went around their backs and texted my brother, who is ... well, how do I protect his privacy ... was in on the plans on the service. I gave my condolences and asked if I could come. He did not answer me for a couple days, so on Thursday evening (after consulting my sister and worrying that I'm just bothering him at this point) I texted him again. He said he'd give me the address.
My brother never did give me the address, so I figured he was too busy arranging plans or too sad to remember to get back to me. I understand. But this morning, I heard the front door open. My parents are usually up this time of day, but they don't leave the house.
Through my bedroom door Father calls me. When I come out I see him in a way I rarely do: In a suit. He needed a tie, but the black suit and white shirt was the same get-up I had thrown into my car while my parents were away yesterday (Friday) evening in case my brother did send me the address of the service. I was totally prepared to disobey my parents' orders, leave wearing my t-shirt and shorts, change somewhere out in public and pay my respects to them, then change back before going home. But now they are going and I am not?
Now I am confused, completely confused. I assumed ... no, I thought that when Mother shook her head no, not only was I not to go but they weren't going to go, either. But now they were going to do the right thing and go without me, the one who originally was going to do the right thing? Did they change their mind, or was this their plan all along?
And what about my brother? He obviously was busy, but if my parents were going to go to the service he should have remembered that I asked to come over. Why wouldn't he give me the difference?
My most paranoid reasoning: I would be a distraction to the service or, worse, be so poisonous a presence that they did not want me there at all. Who would I be a distraction or poison to? My parents? My brother? The family? I have no idea who wouldn't want me there. Like I said, I don't know if I even spoke to this guy. I just wanted to be a nice guy and pay my respects. And I wasn't allowed to do that. I was so blindsided that they were going that I didn't even ask if I could go. Maybe I should have. But Mother told me not to come, and so it may be was pointless to ask.
Whatever, man. It's over now.
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