WWTBAM Bored

My dad died in 2000. I miss him every day.

My mother is applying for Social Security right now. Every day she calls me for something else of my Dads so that she can collect Social Security in his name so that she can get more money.

I am glad that she is getting the money, even though my dad would roll over in his grave if he knew, if he had a grave, he is still in my closet, pending a trip to Disneyland, but I wish that she would just give me a list, rather than getting these "emergency" phone calls every day that necessitate me going to the Fed Ex office. Because every time I have to go into the box of my Dad's stuff, I just start crying.

I am sorry you are going through this.

Cry if you need to.

It's okay.

That sucks.

Maybe mom will let up at some point, once she realizes it hurts you more.

Pea is right. Crying is good for you. Remember Rosie Grier, in Marlo Thomas' "Free to be you and me"?

It's all right to cry. Crying takes the mad out of you. It might make you feel better.

Or something like that. I remember being impressed by this big scary football player, singing it was okay to cry.

It sucks you are going through this still. I had to giggle a little about the 'he's in my closet' though. My grandma rode around in the back seat of my car, buckled in, of course, for several months after her cremation.

For me crying is like drinking too much. I'm afraid if I start I won't be able to stop, so I don't start.

t.

I am so sorry, PSM.

Tigger and Sammy are on the bookshelf, where they can watch over us. I know Sammy likes the idea of being higher than she'd been able to jump for quite some time. Tigger might not like being up there so much, but she appreciates being able to see what's going on.

Non-disposable (or non-disposed-of) ashes may be one of the stranger artifacts of modern civilization.

Sebastian is in an urn on our family room fireplace mantle . I picked the urn out to match the mosaic lighting fixture. Whenever I baby-sit my friend Sylvia's son Nick (who used to play with Sebastian) he always goes to the fireplace and says "Hi Sebastian" then he goes to say hi to the rest of the cats and the rabbits.

My aunt has it written in her will that she wants my cousin to buy a Porsche and put her cremains in the glove box.

Your tears honor your father's memory

themanintheseersuckersuit wrote:Your tears honor your father's memory

I loved my dad.

My mom on the other hand is driving me crazy. I am trying to live by SC's example and be a good daughter, but it's getting harder and harder.

As I have mentioned, I have been doing stuff for her all week so that she can get more Social Security. I told her on Tuesday that Jeff really wanted to go away for Christmas because he has some time off and he never has time off. We never have spent a single Christmas with just the four of us and we are thinking about going to Vegas.

I could tell that she was upset. My Uncle's girlfriend told me that my mother plans on driving down here from Oregon anyway, even if we leave. She told them that she needs stuff out of her safety deposit box and doesn't want to bother me with it. (Yet she had no problem calling me up at 4:00 to go to the box Federal Express her birth certificate to her.) She told my Uncle that even if we aren't here she has an invitation to spend with another family, something that I know is completely untrue.

So rather than spending Christmas with my Uncle and his girlfriend, she is going to be alone in Southern California.

Jeff told me that I should just empty out her safety deposit box and send everything to her. He says to just call her on her bluff and leave for the holidays.

I feel like I am stuck here now.

I hate Christmas.

PlacentiaSoccerMom wrote:

themanintheseersuckersuit wrote:Your tears honor your father's memory

Jeff told me that I should just empty out her safety deposit box and send everything to her.

I wondered earlier if this was an option. Some sort of registered, insured mail. That way you could be done with it.

As for the rest, she is trying to play a guilt manipulation game that you do not have to sign up for. You are not responsible for her happiness. You ARE responsible for your own. Go to Vegas.

Hang in there. Hopefully it will get better soon.

PlacentiaSoccerMom wrote:
My mom on the other hand is driving me crazy. I am trying to live by SC's example and be a good daughter, but it's getting harder and harder.

Snort. PSM, if it will make you feel any better, I can assure you that there is much I do not say, because I don't want to sound angry as often as otherwise might be possible.

It certainly sounds as if your mother is trying to manipulate you in this case. I will assume it's not the first time. I guarantee that if you give in, she will do it again and again. I seem to recall that you've indicated she's in her early 60s. Do you really want to give her the power to decide where you will spend Christmas for another 30 years or so? Go to Vegas. If she comes to California anyway, she knows other people with whom she might spend part of the holiday. If she prefers to play the lonely victim, that's her choice.

Lots of good advice from lots of good people here. I know it's hard.
Sorta like raising teenagers, but maybe even worse.

I agree, go to Vegas. I think calling her bluff may be just the thing you need to do. It is a power struggle. You have a family and they come first. That's just the way it is. Good luck, sweetie...and I mean that in a good way....I really do. (sheesh, am I pananoid or what?)

Folks here are very wise, PSM. Go to Vegas.

And if your mother gets lonely in California, she could always track you down, there!

Ah, hugs to all who are having bittersweet things right now.