My mother tells me that our family patriarch is fading fast. He is frail and his memory comes and goes. She doesn't expect him to live much longer.
I don't care.
This is not the reaction I thought I would have. For he molested me when I was in high school and continued to behave inappropriately toward me all the way into my 30s, when I finally decided I would not put up with it anymore. I have not been in the same room with him since.
My relationship with him was major and has had an impact across my entire life. So when I imagined this inevitable turn of events, I always thought I'd have a bigger reaction. Relief. Or maybe a desire for reconciliation/resolution. Nope. I don't feel anything that complicated at all.
Actually, my overriding emotion is annoyance. Because when the old bastard finally does kick, I'll have to get out of town. Fast. For if I don't have an emergency, albeit quickly fabricated, trip to visit a friend who needs me, I'll either have to attend his wake and funeral (most emphatically not happening) or just stay home. And that would put me in the position of either lying about why I'm not there or explaining to relatives that he fondled and tormented me, and I don't think they want to hear that.
So I have to go out of town to visit a friend. On short notice. The one I want is the one I always turn to when times are tough -- my best friend. He has a way of making my world make sense, no matter what is going on. But he's a straight man and I don't think (OK, I know) his wife wouldn't welcome my sudden appearance on their doorstep.
I'm actually thinking of a solo escape to Vegas. It's easy to book a last-minute flight and I could play some slots in the casino and get a massage and pedi in the salon while my family is busy eulogizing and planting the old boy.
I know this is a weird post, but this is a weird situation, isn't it?
Oh well, the old turd is still breathing. So I don't have to do anything about anything right now.