angry

I'll be visiting hometown tomorrow. It's a trip I'm not anticipating. I should be eager to see mom, considering the last time I saw her was in a fifth floor hospital room, but I'm not. Am I angry? Not exactly. Am I disappointed? Yes. That disappointment tends to express itself in mild strains of anger. These sour feelings are shared with dad. Why? A few weeks ago, sister, her husband and her daughter were forced to move from their home. Actually, they weren't forced to move – they couldn't afford to make rent. See, the previous six months were rent free because the home they moved into needed a lot of work – it was trashed, basically. Sister and husband cleaned up the place. One would assume that, while occupying the home rent free, they would save some dough and have little trouble making the first month's rent payment. But no. Sister's husband works in some dusty factory, and he works plenty of overtime. So, where is all that money going? Drugs, probably. Anyway, dad, for some fucked up reason, allowed the three of them to move into his house. Guess what happens? Dad discovers a week ago that $200 – money he had stashed, locked in the trunk of his car, apparently – is missing. He issues some ultimatum, her husband moves out, and earlier this evening, sister was assessed at some drug-treatment facility. But not accepted. Sister is still living with dad, and dad told her that if she steals again, he'll call the cops and she'll no longer call his small two-bedroom house home, it'll be a jail cell. So why am I disappointed/angry with dad? Because he has never been a man to stand his position. He's known for years that sister stole from mom – hell, she stole from him long before the $200 incident. I understand that she is his daughter, and within that bond is a love that I don't understand, but when dealing with a liar there is little confusion – a liar practices deceit, yet preaches promises and good faith. I'm pissed at dad for being weak. I'm pissed at mom for not taking care of herself. I want to cut ties with everyone. I'm so disgusted with all of them. I don't expect them to be flawless characters; that, obviously, would be a ridiculous expectation, but what I do expect is behavior, a philosophy of life, that is guided by logic, a habit of existence that doesn't hinge on the suspension of life's rudimentary concepts, among those being the active pursuit of finding the cause of a recurring sickness (which mom failed to do) and appropriate skepticism when dealing with those who have proven themselves to be devious (which dad is unable to do).

Do I love my parents? Yes, of course. But as I age, I see them more as adults, people stained by age and time, then as relational beings. I'm sure other 31-year-olds share this experience, and I'm sure some find it disconcerting. But I don't. It's life. In an earlier post I wrote that our friends and families are associations by accident only. When those associates do wrong, we shouldn't absolve them of their errors, especially egregious mistakes, simply because the bond of blood or experience is common with our own. We should aid them, attempt to pull them from their ills (which, I feel, I have tried to do with mom, dad and sister). But what if our words or will isn't strong enough? Do we provide aid and comfort for their foibles? Or do we deny the ugly parts and act as if on some distant stage of temporary disbelief? What do we do?

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