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by houseboat_Archive
When my Grandmother died, eleven years ago now, it really hit my father hard. I guess there's never a good time for your mother to die, but it came at a particularly bad time for him - my parents' marriage was going through a bad patch, our house had been broken into and cleared out that summer and he was having a tough time at work.
Looking back now it's clear to me that he was extremely depressed and his drinking was out of control. It lasted for five years or so, and gradually our relationship disintegrated. I'd find bottles of whiskey and wine stashed around the house and he'd wake me up wanting to tell me about his childhood, or particularly sad things that had dappened to him over the years. Once when I was eleven, I think, we drove out to the woods and walked the dog. I remember he bought me a mars bar and drank a four pack of special brew, then drove me home. I've only ever brought this up with him once since then and I don't think he really remembered it, but he was horrfied. When you're grieving like that, and depressed and crazy, I suppose you're a different person.
Anyway, this whole period was fucked up. I went off the rails between twelve and fifteen, getting in trouble at school, taking drugs all the time, generally contributing to all the difficulties everyone was already dealing with. It's hard to write about this in a chronological way. It was too messy and confusing. I had no idea what was going on really.
I remember, my sister and I had gone with my mum to visit her mother when we got the news. We drove back home as soon as we'd got the news. The boiler had broken and flooded the kitchen, and we walked in the door and my Dad was sitting on a stool listening to Bach, ankle deep in water and crying.
It was the hardest thing because I knew that just us being there all together wasn't enough to sort it out. There were lots of hard things during that whole spell, but that sticks out as the most difficult. Just returning home and knowing that it wasn't okay, that this event had changed everything.
We don't ever really talk about it these days. You just work through it and move on. My Dad eventually dealt with it and sorted himself out. He and I are very close now. We sorted out our differences while painting the kitchen a few years later after my girlfriend had broken up with me. And my parents are retired now and get on okay, bickering like the old married couple that they are.
But shit, that was a terrible time.
Oh man and then driving home with her empty collar on the front seat 