"There's only one hard and fast rule in running: sometimes you have to run one hard and fast."

Friday, January 27, 2012

Therapy Post

Skip this post if you're looking for lighthearted entertainment.


Stacy had put her apartment in my name so that her parents couldn't find her. When she died, her parents blamed me; they had a private funeral so I couldn't attend and, while they had a family plot, had her cremated and the ashes scattered so I couldn't visit. I didn't blame them for being angry; it was just the stage of grief they were in.

Her sister told me that they wanted to collect her things from the apartment, so I gave her a key and said they could come and take whatever they wanted. When I went back there a week later, they had taken everything. They took the curtains and carpet. They took the light bulbs.

I walked through the empty apartment, and when I went into the bedroom, saw that they had left something on the floor. They had taken the photos of the two of us together and ripped them in half, taking her image and leaving mine. One photo had an elaborate rip to remove her arm from my waist.

There was nothing left to do but give the place a final cleaning. I bought what I needed from the local hardware store, came back and started scrubbing. The bathroom sink wouldn't drain. Though it was difficult, I could unscrew the trap by hand. I fished out the clog, which turned out to be a wad of red hair.

It was all that was left of her in the world. I cried for hours.


Glaven Q. Heisenberg said...

This is a healthy thing to be dwelling on in Minnesota in the dead of winter. According to weather.com, it's borderline freezing, overcast and about to snow there today. So that should cheer you up.

Seriously, you should call someone because this isn't healthy. I'd be less concerned if you called her parents assholes (because mourning or not, that's what they sound like), but you acquiesce in their judgment of you as though it didn't matter.

But it does.

Deb said...

Remember that absolutely horrific piece of shit song called "Stacy's Mom" that was so bad it made one's ears bleed? Well, clearly Stacy's mom does NOT have it going on, or her dad, either. Screw 'em.

pensive pumpkin said...

For the record, I get it. I don't think it's healthy either, but I get it.

People can say some terrible things when they are in pain, and when you are in pain it is easy to believe them. If the pain stays, you keep believing- true or not.

I don't know the story, but I'm sorry.

joyRuN said...

That hurts just reading it. I agree with GP though. It sounds like you've allowed Stacy's parents their grief, but not your own. Yours is just as valid.

Crack psychodiagnosis off a blog post courtesy of too much coffee this morning. Sorry.

SteveQ said...

Um, guys, it's been 30 years; I think I'm over it. It's just probably the worst thing anyone's ever done to me and making it public makes me feel better. I was trying to "rise above" their behavior, but there was no really good way to deal with things.