Today, Ed would have turned 40. It’s crazy to think that over six years have passed since he died, and each year around the time of his death anniversary and birthday, I can feel pain in my body when I think about how he’s gone.
At the same time, I also get pretty angry at our parents and how little they did to help and encourage him. It tends to manifest itself in a series of dreams, usually where I am screaming, yelling, kicking, and hitting one or both of them. This past week, I had two dreams, one night after the other, in which I am screaming at my mom and threatening to never see her again. I just don’t want to deal with her constant drama, negativity, and hatred anymore. I’m sick of her constantly victimizing herself, blaming others around her for her pain and suffering. I am fed up with her lack of ownership over her own life. I cannot deal with her laziness in getting things done around the house that would make her life easier. She constantly complains that she needs my dad’s help for “everything, even “just to take a bath.” A couple of solutions that I’ve suggested which have gotten shot down: change the faucet head so that it can switch between being a hand-held shower nozzle and a regular faucet. What prevents this? Cheapness to pay for a new nozzle and to get the plumbing adjusted, in addition to sheer laziness. What about how to reach awkward spots of her back? Use the extra-long shower brush I got for her that she refuses to use. Wow, what solutions! And even more amazing, what complete rejections of said solutions that would solve the problems being presented!
On my dad’s side, there’s just the complete lack of recognition of the fact that he ever had a son. He never recognized Ed’s birthday or even his mere presence in a room before Ed died. Occasionally now, he will say they should visit Ed’s niche. I’m always tempted to say, “well, why do you acknowledge Ed now that he’s dead, but you never wanted to acknowledge Ed when he was actually alive and right in front of you?” He continues to act like a child, think like a child, behave like a child. It’s amazing that once a man has a regular steady job, gets married and has children, all those checkboxes become a semblance of a “mature functioning adult” when they actually are not in reality.
My parents could have a much better life for themselves if they just made things happened. But they don’t. Their inaction angers and frustrates me, but there’s nothing I can really do for them to help. As awful as it sounds, it’s probably a good thing Ed isn’t here to witness this and endure their constant verbal abuse and contempt.
This is life today without Ed. He’s not missing out on much with this family.