My Mom passed away November 18, 2005. Funny how dates like those stick in your mind like superglue. She'd been married to her second husband for 17 years, and my kids called him Pawpaw, but I just never felt really close to him at all. I never liked him at first as he was very controlling of her. He even refused to let her see my sister's husband when he came home on leave from the airforce one year for just a day or two to see his Mom. He always thought of my Mom as a second Mom as well. It just rubbed me the wrong way. Eventually Mom's strong personality won out (I'm a LOT like her), and she became the one in charge in that marriage. She was very very happy in her life with him and for that I am glad.
However.
Before she passed, since she knew it was coming (Cancer Sucks), she made extensive lists of what went to whom. Her husband, C.D. was to make sure it was carried out. Everything was fine, the china was divvied up as she had said, knick knacks, etc. Much was left untouched for CD to keep at his home. Then it came to the two antique bedroom sets. One was my Granny's which had been in an auction when my uncles auctioned everything in the house when Granny died and family had to bid on it to get anything. They're real assholes. But anyway, Mom won that bid (thankfully everyone else knew not to bid against her - even strangers). She thoughtfully restored the GORGEOUS dresser and headboard and footboard. And my sister got it when Mom passed. It was in the guestroom.
I was to get the bedroom set I had had as a teenager, and Mom had had before that when she had her own bedroom (my parents had separate bedrooms - I never thought that was weird til I was grown), and before that it had been in Granny's home as well. It was probably older than the one Connie got, but very rustic. It had a matching dresser that had a mirror. It was the old silvered glass type. So, I was to get the headboard, foot board, rails and slats and the dresser... that's where the problems lies...
The bed was in pieces in the basement in a dry area. The dresser however was in the guestroom behind the bedroom door. So, when Mom went into that bedroom and explained to CD that Connie got all the furniture in that bedroom, she didn't even see my dresser to tell him otherwise.
When I went back to pick up the furniture (including the farmtable we use as a dining table that CD said we could have and wasn't on the list), he refused to let me have the dresser. He said he was told everything in that room was Connie's. It was in that moment that the enormity of what I'd lost hit me. I could never again holler for Mom to come tell him what was mine and what was Connie's... I could never again call her about anything. It hit me hard, and it's hard to even write this now.
So, I left that house.. the house I'd lived in for a year when recouperating from a car accident that nearly killed me, the house that I went to every Mothers Day, Thanksgiving and Christmas for 17 years after Dad died (she married my stepfather the Sept after my Dad died in january)... we didn't even get one Christmas to deal with Dad not being there without this new man... yeah I never was a well adjusted teenager. I have some issues. That was the last time I was ever at that house. Since November 2005.
I know it wasn't fair to him to not let him see the grandkids anymore, and it wasn't fair to the kids to not see their pawpaw anymore... but to be honest, no one complained. When Mom was living he never really showed much affection to them. He was always very shy and quiet and when he did speak it was very mumbled and I could hardly ever understand him. The kids never could. They'd always whisper and ask what he said.
As for him, I saw him ad family gathering for a couple of years and then he stopped coming to them. My sister pays his bills for him and gets his mail as he never did learn to read (we're talking really really country folks here). I am just not that kind of person. Like currently, my husband's sister and her husband are power of attorney and paying his grandparents' bills since they both have Alzheimers, and they're very good at all that. My husband and I are not. As you've read, we barely are able to deal with out own lives and stuff that happens. I wish I were born with the other type of personality.
Anyway, I can't help but think, my dresser that my Mom had in her own bedroom and I had in my bedroom and was then in her home for another 17 years... is not where it belongs. It should be in Rhiannon's room where the bed is. It should get passed down in the family. And she needs a dresser. The problem is I hate awkward situations. I hate confrontation. I hate talking to people outside my comfort zone. I hate anything that takes me outside my comfort zone. My husband is exactly the same way.
So, do I just let it go and not even think about the dresser ever again. Maybe just save up and find a replacement that's similar in an antique store? Just go get one from a thrift store for $40? Or do I call him up and see if he's actually home (he could even be remarried now for all I know, but I don't think so), and ask him awkwardly if I can have that dresser now? Oh he knows it's mine now since Connie went to get her bedroom set and told him it was mine. I should have gone back then.
I just couldn't face it. I can't go back to that house with her not in it. I told you I have issues. Can I do it now? Is a piece of furniture worth all this emotional garbage and stress? Mom would tell me I'm being ridiculous and to get on with my life.
What would you do?
However.
Before she passed, since she knew it was coming (Cancer Sucks), she made extensive lists of what went to whom. Her husband, C.D. was to make sure it was carried out. Everything was fine, the china was divvied up as she had said, knick knacks, etc. Much was left untouched for CD to keep at his home. Then it came to the two antique bedroom sets. One was my Granny's which had been in an auction when my uncles auctioned everything in the house when Granny died and family had to bid on it to get anything. They're real assholes. But anyway, Mom won that bid (thankfully everyone else knew not to bid against her - even strangers). She thoughtfully restored the GORGEOUS dresser and headboard and footboard. And my sister got it when Mom passed. It was in the guestroom.
I was to get the bedroom set I had had as a teenager, and Mom had had before that when she had her own bedroom (my parents had separate bedrooms - I never thought that was weird til I was grown), and before that it had been in Granny's home as well. It was probably older than the one Connie got, but very rustic. It had a matching dresser that had a mirror. It was the old silvered glass type. So, I was to get the headboard, foot board, rails and slats and the dresser... that's where the problems lies...
The bed was in pieces in the basement in a dry area. The dresser however was in the guestroom behind the bedroom door. So, when Mom went into that bedroom and explained to CD that Connie got all the furniture in that bedroom, she didn't even see my dresser to tell him otherwise.
When I went back to pick up the furniture (including the farmtable we use as a dining table that CD said we could have and wasn't on the list), he refused to let me have the dresser. He said he was told everything in that room was Connie's. It was in that moment that the enormity of what I'd lost hit me. I could never again holler for Mom to come tell him what was mine and what was Connie's... I could never again call her about anything. It hit me hard, and it's hard to even write this now.
So, I left that house.. the house I'd lived in for a year when recouperating from a car accident that nearly killed me, the house that I went to every Mothers Day, Thanksgiving and Christmas for 17 years after Dad died (she married my stepfather the Sept after my Dad died in january)... we didn't even get one Christmas to deal with Dad not being there without this new man... yeah I never was a well adjusted teenager. I have some issues. That was the last time I was ever at that house. Since November 2005.
I know it wasn't fair to him to not let him see the grandkids anymore, and it wasn't fair to the kids to not see their pawpaw anymore... but to be honest, no one complained. When Mom was living he never really showed much affection to them. He was always very shy and quiet and when he did speak it was very mumbled and I could hardly ever understand him. The kids never could. They'd always whisper and ask what he said.
As for him, I saw him ad family gathering for a couple of years and then he stopped coming to them. My sister pays his bills for him and gets his mail as he never did learn to read (we're talking really really country folks here). I am just not that kind of person. Like currently, my husband's sister and her husband are power of attorney and paying his grandparents' bills since they both have Alzheimers, and they're very good at all that. My husband and I are not. As you've read, we barely are able to deal with out own lives and stuff that happens. I wish I were born with the other type of personality.
Anyway, I can't help but think, my dresser that my Mom had in her own bedroom and I had in my bedroom and was then in her home for another 17 years... is not where it belongs. It should be in Rhiannon's room where the bed is. It should get passed down in the family. And she needs a dresser. The problem is I hate awkward situations. I hate confrontation. I hate talking to people outside my comfort zone. I hate anything that takes me outside my comfort zone. My husband is exactly the same way.
So, do I just let it go and not even think about the dresser ever again. Maybe just save up and find a replacement that's similar in an antique store? Just go get one from a thrift store for $40? Or do I call him up and see if he's actually home (he could even be remarried now for all I know, but I don't think so), and ask him awkwardly if I can have that dresser now? Oh he knows it's mine now since Connie went to get her bedroom set and told him it was mine. I should have gone back then.
I just couldn't face it. I can't go back to that house with her not in it. I told you I have issues. Can I do it now? Is a piece of furniture worth all this emotional garbage and stress? Mom would tell me I'm being ridiculous and to get on with my life.
What would you do?