Aftermath of the letter
09.06.08, 10:41 pm

Again, I find myself starting an entry by apologising for not writing more often. And apologising that I won�t be a fun entry. I seem to have given up on fun entries recently, apparently preferring to shower you all with my horrible life angst. Because why not divulge your innermost thoughts and feelings to the entire Internet ether? It seems to be easier than telling my nearest and dearest, I�ll tell you that for sure.

So, the letter. The frickin� goddamn letter. Well, I posted it last Wednesday � a modified version of the one that I posted here, more �you�re a bit of a dick� as opposed to the original �you�re a total fuckwit and a twat�. Definitely wise, as things didn�t go quite as I planned. I spent the whole of Thursday in a state of nervous tension at work, and then went to Indie Chick�s that night so that I wouldn�t be on my own. My dad rang at about 8 o�clock, and we then proceeded to have one of the most hideous conversations of my life.

We started by talking about the ashes issue, which was fine as my dad swore that he told my gran, and that it had been the plan B all along to have them scattered at Burntstump, and that she�d obviously forgotten all about it (completely plausible, as her memory is becoming more and more dreadful every week). So that bit was fine, and made me feel better. He then started talking about my mum, crying and telling me things that I�m still not sure that I want to know, which was pretty horrible. And then we moved onto the jewellery, and essentially had a big argument about the principles behind it, and he tried to make out that Amanda had wanted to wear the necklace as a tribute to my mum, which is such complete bullshit I can�t even express it properly. He doesn�t understand why I�m angry. I don�t understand why he�s so blas� about it all. We�ve essentially agreed to disagree, and I�m still not happy about it.

And then just when I thought we�d finished, and frankly I wanted to get off the phone so very much, he said, �And there�s some other things that we need to discuss at a later date.� And so I told him to tell me now, and before I knew it we were onto the topic of Amanda, namely the fact that she and I don�t get on. It was apparently all my fault, until I started disagreeing quite strongly. And then this happened:

Me: I�ve tried so hard, and I�ve tried for a long time, but it�s obviously not good enough.
Dad: Well, I can�t ask you to try hard.
Me: I can�t help the fact that she doesn�t like me.
Dad: Why do you say that?
Me: It�s just the vibe I get off of her, just the feeling she gives. I can tell she doesn�t like me.
Dad (not disagreeing): *long pause* And was it different with Bernie?
Me: *long pause* Yes.
Dad: You liked her?
Me: Bernie was fantastic. She was amazing.
Dad (crying): It�s just... I�ve had to make certain compromises . I had to start from scratch again, and realise that you can�t replace people, and I�ve had to take on someone else�s family, which has been very hard. And I�ve realised that we�re never going to be one big happy family, because you�re a lot older, and have your own lives now, and I worry that you�ve been squeezed out.

It went on and on and on, the subtext being that he knows that Amanda�s not as good as Bernie, and that he doesn�t see me and Alice enough, and that he�s been concentrating on Amanda�s family too much, and that he�s worried that he�s losing us as a consequence. And then right at the end:

Dad: I don�t know, I sometimes feel that I didn�t do a very good job after your mum died.
Me: I... I don�t think there�s any point in looking back at the way things turned out. There�s no real right way, and it was so long ago... you just have to get on with life.
Dad (suddenly): I have to go now.
Me: Oh, okay. Well, shall I ring you at the weekend?
Dad: I�m away at a festival. I�ll ring you next week sometime. Ok bye.

I don�t think he left so suddenly because of me... I think it was because Amanda had turned up. At least, I hope that was the reason. So yeah, listening to my dad cry for a good twenty minutes and telling me that his whole marriage is one big compromise between love and loneliness was just horrible. He sounded so incredibly depressed and tired. And horrible painful things that he�s told me about my mum�s final few months, which make me just shrink up inside when I think about them. So I�ve spent the whole weekend resolutely not thinking about it - my wonderful reliable coping mechanism that I�m so good at. It�s worked... I haven�t thought about it at all until I started writing this. I figured now was the time that I started processing things though. Trouble is, I don�t know what I�m supposed to do now. What am I supposed to do with all this information? Where do we go from here?

I have no idea, by the way. My friends at work have told me that I need to talk to him again, but I have no idea what I would say. I don�t even know if I want to say anything at all.

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