It has not been a good week.

 I wish that I had happy things to share and fun pictures for you. I don't. This week has sucked. First, there was the business of being on tenterhooks waiting for my father-in-law's condition to change. He had been in the hospital most of last week (which wasn't a good week either) due to complications from fatty liver disease and a fall the Friday before. Fortunately, the fall just left him with some good sized bruises but there was no concussion or broken bones. About the middle of last week, he decided that he was done taking medication for his fatty liver disease and dealing with the side effects. So began our death watch.

To some extent I was on the sidelines for this. But it was still stressful. The kids were prepared for the news that he was dying, but they still were upset with it. They had a close relationship with the man. A day or so after my father-in-law decided he was done with treatment, we got a phone call telling us that he had anything between a few days to a few weeks before he died. At which point, Beloved called out of work and we all trooped up to the hospital. Snuggle Bug wanted to see his grandfather and say something to him. Cuddle Bear preferred not to go into the ward where the man was. He waited with me and we all headed home when Snuggle Bug had his say. For my part, I had nothing to say.

I had to restrain myself from saying when Beloved asked me if I wanted to step back and say anything "Naw, I've seen corpses before." To put it very lightly, I despised my father-in-law based upon his past behavior, politics, and general attitude. And he never knew the depth of it. My father-in-law would tease my Beloved and insist that I actually liked him. The old goat mistook my politeness for actual pleasure in his company.

 I didn't disabuse him of the notion but as time passed on, he started to think that there was something a bit off there. Perhaps it was the fact that I had my hair chopped after he fawned over a haircut that I had gotten, I think it was two or three days after it that I got a super short pixie cut. He made me uncomfortable, angry, and I decided to do something about it. But between the mannish haircut and my changing my clothing style to black everything with occasional splashes of color, I got suspicious looks from him and he started queer baiting me. I made a point of not getting into an argument with him over it because I was observing frith and sticking to my own faith's rules of good behavior in another's home. There were several times he said things that made me want to loosen his teeth, but I replied with a dry 'that's your opinion.'

All of this exposition is to explain the background for why I am not mourning the man. I'm actually somewhat relieved and glad that he's dead. He can no longer hurt anyone now. He can no longer terrorize his wife. He can no longer spread his brand of hatred. And, he's made himself semi-useful in death by donating his body to science. I have but one childish regret, that I didn't punch him when I had the opportunity. I, however, recognize that I have anger issues and do my best to keep that in check. And I recognize that punching him would have been breaking frith, done nothing to resolve all of the agony he has caused in the course of his lifetime, and would probably have netted me an assault charge. I still feel like he deserved at least one punch for how he behaved in life, though.

All of that aside, the old goat dying has left something of a mess that Beloved and his siblings are sorting through with their mother. Changes got made to important legal things which didn't get down in writing before my father in law went into the hospital. Palsy made it impossible for him to feed himself, let alone write something down. And I presume that when he made these changes to his wishes for end of life stuff, he expected that he wasn't going to die essentially immediately after. The extended family are in the process of converging on the town. This is going to be complicated and messy because feelings and opinions on what should happen next. 

I'm not looking forward to the next few weeks. I expect that Beloved and the kids are going to have a rough time of it all. I expect that Beloved's mother and his siblings are going to have a rough time too. I'm going to do my best to support them and disregard what others have to say, even if it makes me angry.