Dysfuncturama
A recent online conversation reminded me that the issue of sibling estrangement is not a new one for my family. I have an uncle (my mother's oldest brother - Greg), who severed all contact with his parents and siblings roughly 25 years ago.
The issue at hand, as in so many cases, was money. Greg and my other uncle, Roger, had taken over the family business and the partnership did not go smoothly. Given that I was only 10 or so at the time, and that nobody seems to particularly want to talk about it, I don't know a lot of specifics. I do know that it eventually came to blows, with Roger leaving town, and Greg taking over as sole owner of the business. Greg, for whatever reason, saw fit to stop communicating with family from that point forward.
Because of my age when the original blowup took place, I was able to follow the later events with relative objectivity (pun, sadly intentional.) Greg's behavior has often been childish and selfish. Sometimes it has been cruel and slanderous. I don't honestly know what drove him to behave in this manner, but I suspect some sort of persecution complex.
My grandmother contacted Greg after my mom started chemotherapy for lymphoma, and again after Roger was diagnosed with cancer, but Greg didn't so much as telephone either of them. He did send a sympathy card after my brother was killed, but he did not attend his own father's funeral.
My uncle Roger died of esophageal cancer three years ago. He was a very interesting individual - whip-smart, loud, crude, highly opinionated, obnoxious, and genuinely hilarious. He was one of my favorite people. My family and I visited him at his house several times in the months before his death after he became bedridden and any hope for a recovery had given way to an acceptance of his rapidly approaching death. He was very frail toward the end. Just a year before, he had been a big man with a big belly, a big voice and a big personality. In his final months, he lost the girth and his voice was a barely audible, croaky whisper. But he never lost the crude, wicked humor.
Two weeks before he passed away, we went to visit Roger for what would prove to be the final time. Somehow the conversation turned to his brother. He joked that he wanted his ashes scattered in the flower beds at Greg's house..."I'm gonna haunt that f*cker."
Part of his ashes were scattered on top of a peak near where my grandparents had a mountain cabin. His wife kept part of them. Part of them are now mingled in with the soil around his brother's daisies and potentilla bushes. My parents and I have no idea how they got there.
The issue at hand, as in so many cases, was money. Greg and my other uncle, Roger, had taken over the family business and the partnership did not go smoothly. Given that I was only 10 or so at the time, and that nobody seems to particularly want to talk about it, I don't know a lot of specifics. I do know that it eventually came to blows, with Roger leaving town, and Greg taking over as sole owner of the business. Greg, for whatever reason, saw fit to stop communicating with family from that point forward.
Because of my age when the original blowup took place, I was able to follow the later events with relative objectivity (pun, sadly intentional.) Greg's behavior has often been childish and selfish. Sometimes it has been cruel and slanderous. I don't honestly know what drove him to behave in this manner, but I suspect some sort of persecution complex.
My grandmother contacted Greg after my mom started chemotherapy for lymphoma, and again after Roger was diagnosed with cancer, but Greg didn't so much as telephone either of them. He did send a sympathy card after my brother was killed, but he did not attend his own father's funeral.
My uncle Roger died of esophageal cancer three years ago. He was a very interesting individual - whip-smart, loud, crude, highly opinionated, obnoxious, and genuinely hilarious. He was one of my favorite people. My family and I visited him at his house several times in the months before his death after he became bedridden and any hope for a recovery had given way to an acceptance of his rapidly approaching death. He was very frail toward the end. Just a year before, he had been a big man with a big belly, a big voice and a big personality. In his final months, he lost the girth and his voice was a barely audible, croaky whisper. But he never lost the crude, wicked humor.
Two weeks before he passed away, we went to visit Roger for what would prove to be the final time. Somehow the conversation turned to his brother. He joked that he wanted his ashes scattered in the flower beds at Greg's house..."I'm gonna haunt that f*cker."
Part of his ashes were scattered on top of a peak near where my grandparents had a mountain cabin. His wife kept part of them. Part of them are now mingled in with the soil around his brother's daisies and potentilla bushes. My parents and I have no idea how they got there.
posted by ptooey at
3:16 PM
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