Well, I'm feeling a little different now...no big surprise since my current diagnosis is bipolar II...plenty of lame jokes to follow, I'm sure.
Last night, I let myself think of fond memories of my uncle. There were times that were good and while they were tainted by his sins, there was good there. I have begun to seperate the good from the bad again, like we did in those days.
In the daylight, when we were stable, we were just kids, and we had so much fun. I remember how he gave us pizza money while we were up on the roof. And took us to the haunted trail, which was so lame, but still, my first haunted anything. I remember when I got my kitten from his neighbor and he thought of her name, October, Tobi for short, because it was the tenth month and she was black and orange...she still lives at my parents' house. I remember when he still worked at Builder's Square and he brought home Pete, the tiny (really tiny) chameleon that had hitched a ride on one of their tropicals.
So, while the bad memories are still there...his death has given me the freedom to forgive him completely and stop blaming him for every bad thing that his children have gone through. Even though his crimes against me were relatively minor, he hurt someone I love and sometimes that's harder to forgive. I've had nightmares in the last year of her as a smaller child, and he was coming to get her and I was holding her and trying so desperatly to keep her safe but I knew he would get us anyway. I demonized him under the guise of protecting my children when in reality he just made an obvious vessel for all my monsters.
I believe I was right to be cautious with my children but I loved my uncle and I kind of wish I could have told him.
6 years ago