Blood Means Nothing

I will preface this with a CW.

There’s a lot of pent-up anger directed at two family members in this post.

Like… A lot; bordering on rage.

So the entire thing will go behind a cut.

I didn’t really know if I was gonna use names in this…. However I don’t see why I shouldn’t as I won’t be using surnames or any identifiable info.

The Aunt I will be referring to is called Chris(tine) and the Uncle, Pete. Pete is my mum’s older brother, but he is not the oldest.

This blog may take some wording but I honestly don’t know if I can work it into a timeline of events as such, it’s all happened since Gran went into the care home she is currently in (so since November 2016).

Once we knew Gran would not ve coming back to her house the council gave us 4 weeks total to clear it ready to be redecorated for new tennants. During the clear out there were some items that weren’t kept or donated because they were worth some money, the decision was made to sell these at a carboot (Pete and Chris do them semi-regularly) and then the money from the sales would go into Gran’s bank to help pay for her upkeep at the care home. The council pay a part of it but we still have to make the rest out of Gran’s pension. It’s a struggle but we can usually manage it.

Amongst the items to be sold were about 7 dolls; they were gifts from an ex-gentleman friend of Gran. The smaller ones were in a sitting position, medium height were about ten to twelve inches standing and the larger two were at least sixteen inches standing. They were creepy as all fuck, but Gran loved them. I went searching to find new and used prices so we had a rough idea. Second hand the smaller were worth (each) £30, medium £45 and the tall £60-£90 depending on condition. We decided for a carboot they should be £20 each or £100 for all seven.

That didn’t happen. Pete sold all the “unbroken” ones for £20. All in. All of them. The “broken” dolls were thrown out. They werent broken. The legs were moulded bent because they were meant to be sat and Gran had used ribbon to pull them up to kneel. All he had to do was cut the ribbon and seat them.

We also never saw that £20; although it would do very little toward Gran’s upkeep anyway. We haven’t seen a penny of anything else he sold either because they kept it and spent it on them.

Every time (which is getting rarer now) that Pete takes mum to see Gran, he won’t take her unless she pays him gas money. In all fairness it doesn’t sound like a bad arrangement… Until you learn that the entire trip – their house to ours to the home and back the same route – costs less than £8 on a bad gas price week….. He charges my mum £20 or he “doesn’t have the money to go”… Even if he was going to see Gran anyway.

For the next part, it’s important to know Gran has had my mum down as next of kin and first point of contact since she learned she had cancer. She knew mum is the level-headed one who can pretty much handle any situation thrown at her and can then pass on information to family in one hit. Whereas Gran was fully aware that a certain other family member would edit and omit information before passing it on. If it was ever passed on.

When Gran has been in hospital after various falls, trips, slips and basic boo-boos (she has Type-O blood; she’s a bleeder and it usually looks way worse than it is…. Anyway…) Mum was the only person the ward staff would talk to fully about everything; it was even on Gran’s hospital paperwork.

There were times when Pete would call up, after mum had already updated him, and then dispute what mum had said.

Just because he would (and does) lie, doesn’t mean we all would.

I did ask him why he called after mum had told him the update. I didn’t have a go, it was just a question. I asked if he didn’t believe what mum was telling him. He got rather defensive but didn’t deny my question.

Over the last three months as Gran has deteriorated, he has wanted to go less and less, stating once “there’s no point, is there? Once a fortnight will be fine.”

As the news came that it was the beginning of the end he doesn’t seem to show he cares. He’s looked through Gran’s closet at the home and said there’s nothing worth having. Fucking excuse me?!

Mum has had to tell staff that when Gran does pass, she and only she, will come to collect the jewellery and pack her belongings because mum knows that all Pete will do is sell it.

As I write this the most recent “experience” was last night; Monday the 31st July.

Mum got a call saying Gran’s breathing had become very laboured and they weren’t sure if this was “it”.

Pete couldn’t take mum.

Most, if not all, companies and businesses will let you leave if your mother is dying. They’ll let you have time off as and when needed. He allegedly as used up all his holiday days and now only has 3 bereavement days which he has to take all at once.

Luckily a very good friend took mum through and she stayed over night while the friend came home.

While there Pete basically said “let me know when she dies please”. Basically leaving mum in the position of possibly watching her mum die with only the care staff (who are amazing) to comfort and offer support. She wanted her big brother.

I sent him a text telling him to get to his sister and dying mother and not let my mother go through it alone.

In fact…

I think, under the circumstances, I was quite polite. There was a load of other things I could have said, but I didn’t.

I didn’t get a response; as you can see.

My mum did. As she is sitting beside my Gran, Pete called her and had a go at her for what I had said. He didn’t have the nerve to say anything to me and I doubt he ever will. It really does anger me that he was trying to hold my mum accountable for something I said, typed and sent. It was nothing to do with her and she had no clue what I had said till she got back home; yet she got shit for it.

You got an issue with something I say, you bring it to me directly.

Or maybe he was thinking it would get me in some sort of trouble? I’m 31, I make my own decisions when speaking my mind.

When Gran passes and it’s time to sort out the funeral, mum will have to use the small amount of Gran’s life insurance and make up the shortfall as we can only claim upto £700 from the government and with the insurance it still won’t be enough.

They “can’t afford” to help. The “shortfall” will be roughly £1500 and both myself and mum are 100% sure they both believe there’s more insurance than there is and that mum is lying… Because that’s what they’d do.

They’re gonna have a nasty surprise.

They needn’t contest the Will either. Mum is executive of the Will which was done over 20 years ago either shortly before or after Grandpop died. What Pete has had….is it. Gran has no hidden savings or shares or insurances or anything.

When all is said and done, there’s not a doubt in my mind that we will never see that side of the family ever again. On one hand it’s infuriating because family is supposed to stick together, on the other it’s absolutely a-okay because they’re both acting like selfish spineless, penny pinching assholes and that is just toxic.

When it comes to family; blood means Jack Schitt. The people who are immediately supporting us right now, are mostly our chosen family. Even if all they can do is listen or provide a shoulder to cry on.

To Uncle Peter A and Auntie Carol A; you’re amazing and your support is very much appreciated. We haven’t all known each other that long and there’s still a lot of catching up to do. Love to all from us. xxx

Edit: As of writing this Gran is clinging to life; she is scared.

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