…The worst is death, and death will have his day.
Richard II, Act III:II, L. 102
I’m lying in my own bed, new laptop perched upon my crossed knees with Srto Gato purring beside me, his head bobbing about as his curious eyes watch this screen in puzzlement. I don’t know what I think or feel as of this moment in time; the last 18 hours or so have been completely surreal. You know, I’ve not written much on here lately because, although there were a few abstract issues I wanted to talk about, there was otherwise nothing to say. I haven’t had the Lamotrigine for a week and proceeded to self-harm on Saturday night – but so what? It’s hardly remarkable reading, especially given the myriad of similar lamentations that have previously adorned these pages.
Now, of course, there is too much to say. I know what you’re thinking: “she was only your aunt, and not one of whom you were particularly fond.” That’s true to a point, but I’m not sure I can convey in writing – or in any other medium, for that matter – the sheer gravitas of this situation for my family. This is almost certainly the single biggest event for them in my lifetime. That sounds ridiculous when you consider that my grandparents – Maisie’s parents – are both dead, and in particular when you know how much I adored my grandfather who died when I was 15. But my grandparents, to my cousins for example (though not to me, vis a vis my grandfather), were a degree of separation away.
Maisie had no degree of separation from anyone, at least not when she had her own way – which she usually did. I’m not going to take back my earlier commentary on her and start lauding her as the greatest woman that ever lived. She was manipulative. She was devious. She was vindictive. She did treat Sarah (her daughter) like shit and she did start rows about fuck all squared. All of these things – and others – remain true, regardless of her new biological status as lifeless.
As such, many of the relationships she so deeply fostered were in many ways engineered by her, even if they ultimately did result in some form of mutual love, or at least affection. Two of her adult children still live in her house; the other two might as well do so. One of her grandchildren lives there, and until very recently so did a second. The second in question – Suzanne – might as well still have lived there, along with her two children. And for those that actually didn’t live there – Mum and (to a lesser extent) I, for example – well. You didn’t have to be there to be thoroughly under whatever spell Maisie had (whether unwittingly or otherwise) cast. I call the house Hotel California, because you can check out, but you can never leave. This was the power and depth of her familial influence.
My cousins and their children have had, therefore, what I regard as a bizarre upbringing. Everything – everything – for each of them came, ultimately, back to the matriarch. Their lives all focused around Hotel California. Without the Head Californian, there is nothing. Life for these people will, when all the funereal nonsense is over and the sympathetic callers go back to their own lives, become an occupational desert without point, function or comprehension.
I don’t know how clear I’m making this, but maybe I could simply have summed it up thus: Maisie was not just a person. She was an entire way of life for my family. The reach extended less to Mum – and lesser again to me – than to her children and grandchildren, but it has still been keenly felt.
Her death is a big deal, regardless of what anyone’s actual views on the woman may have been.
I said above that I wasn’t going to unspeak my assertions that she had many negative traits. I’m not. I’m sure that hitherto this post demonstrates that. On the other hand, though, she was always personally nice to me. Although I hated going to Hotel California, she was always – fucking always – wanting A and I to go there and see her. We rarely did, for some obvious and some less obvious reasons, and I feel bad about that, because she probably died thinking I didn’t give a fuck about her. But, in actual fact, in many ways I did. The insistence that we visit her was borne, I think, not of altruism, but out of her own perceived needs (though I’m not sure that she realised that herself). But nevertheless, she was always accommodating and highly generous. She seemed to genuinely ‘get’ my mental illness, and had great empathy and sympathy for the pain I suffered. The last ten, twelve, whatever years of her life were punctuated by quite serious illness and at times profound deafness, but she was still capable of having a laugh with us at times. Although they argued occasionally – and when they did, it was big – as my mother said yesterday, standing over her sister’s body, they were life-long and close friends.
And I suppose therein lies another point: Maisie has always been a key fixture in my life. Even when I hadn’t seen her for months on end, her existence somehow hung around in the periphery of my own. As I said, I had only checked out of her life; I had never left.
So for her to just disappear from this world, and relatively suddenly at that, is…a blow, maybe, but if not a blow, then at least a fucking shock, encumbered with a massive amount of bewildered “what the fuck happens now?” Because without her, I don’t know what will become of the McFaul dynasty. Moreover, I don’t know how the interplay between them and my mother/me/A and Aunt of Boredom/Uncle of Boredom will develop, or if it even will at all.
It’s not just the end of a life: it’s the end of an era, it’s the end of an entire and tenacious lifestyle, and – in the worst case scenario – it’s the end of a faulty, dysfunctional but somehow still strangely close family.
—
I had intended to make this entry a run-down of what had happened in the lead-up up to, and immediate aftermath of, Maisie’s death, and how I planned to play the difficult cards of both Paedo and Aunt of Evil. But I’ve written 1,000 words of introspection instead, so rather than turn this into one of those insanely mammoth posts of which I am capable, I’m going to leave things there for today. I felt the above was important stuff to say, one way or another, rambling as it is upon a second reading. A few people had asked me what the exact nature of my relationship with my aunt was; this post probably hasn’t explained that specific dynamic well, but I do hope it gives some idea of the kind of magnitude her death is having on us all. Regardless of my relationship with her during her life, her death will have a hugely wide-ranging impact for a very long time.
Thanks for your support, lovely people. <3 xxx
I’m feeling really sad actually.
I think the end of an era comment you made, hits the nail on the head. Maisy was actually, strangely I suppose, a very big part of my childhood and teenage years as well. And whether I was aware of it or not at the time, she did touch my life both directly and indirectly through her family ‘tentacles’…
So I know what you mean. I understand how despite her negative (and, yes, extremely oppressive) traits to which you allude, she did offer a warm and welcoming place to anyone who wanted to (or didn’t want to) be there and she did always try to take an interest in everyone who was around her. I couldn’t thrive in that environment, which she relished so much. But that’s what made her what she was. And I certainly could never have appreciated her judgements on how I live my life – which you all had to endure for so long (although once she did tell me I was wearing the nicest shirt she had ever seen and I remember being thrilled for some reason).
I have some very happy memories of being with her and around her – and in a strange way I love her for that – although for you it’ll of course be the dictionary definition of bittersweet.
I understand the gaping hole she will leave and I’m heart broken for you and so so many of your family.
Be brave though – re: aunt of evil – at least the funeral will be over with quickly…
Thinking about you 24/7.
Love you xxx
Death is always really odd. I know that sounds stupid and trite but it is completely discombobulating. I think there are always those in the family that bind a family together (in however wierd a fashion). My mother is one of them. And although your relationship with Maisie was bittersweet you need to let yourself mourn.
I hope you can keep yourself safe from Paedo and Aunt of Evil.
Take care xxxxxxxx
Pandora,
It is natural to feel guilty that you did not see more of your aunt prior to her death; however, that does not mean that that guilt is justified. I know from following you on Twitter or Facebook that you saw her more often than you’re perhaps noting here–didn’t she spend many days at your Mom’s with you?
In any event, although it was not her fault that her husband is what he is, how could you have been expected to face *him* with any regularity–especially when you were processing a wealth of material regarding his actions towards you as a child? If you were not a frequent visitor, then you had every good reason.
But rationality comes easy to the outsider in times of strife, and I can only hope that you can find some comfort in the positive memories you hold of times when you did meet your aunt. I can’t pretend to understand how you, or anyone else in your family, is feeling, but please do know that your readers here care about you and are sending every good wish your way during this difficult period.
Sincerely,
Robert
I know that I was one who asked about your relationship with her and I can see that it was complex indeed.
I understand someone having that kind of influence over a whole family so I can see how her death with have ripple effects on everyone.
Now, remember that I don’t know details of your relationship so what I say is based on my own thoughts but, I keep thinking about her home and her kids and extended family. And I apologize if you’ve written about this and I don’t know.
I’m thinking about your bastard uncle which was her husband right? Ok, so if they had kids, is it possible that the bastard abused them as well? Or other relatives? I also don’t know what Maisie knew about what happened to you. Did she know? Is it possible that her death will allow some family to get away from your bastard uncle?
I’m just thinking it out because, again, I don’t know the details of what happened and who knew what.
You did ask, but you weren’t the only one – I think it was a valid query because, despite her wide-ranging influence, I’ve not alluded to her in great detail here. She’s been mentioned, certainly, but rarely discussed in depth.
Anyway…to the best of my knowledge, she had no idea about what her husband did to me. I’m pretty confident on that. However, Daniel and I did recently discuss the possibility than maybe something happened with others. For the sake of context, Maisie and Paedo have four children: three sons and a daughter. In terms of grandchildren, there are four girls and two boys. (Actually, it’s way more convoluted than that, but in terms of regular frequenters of Hotel California, let’s go with that definition).
My cousins are all a lot older than me; the youngest of the four is, I think, about 45ish (a male). He’s a bit of a fuck-up. The daughter, Sarah, is a fellow mentalist.
For reasons I don’t myself understand, I’m fairly confident that the two female grandchildren that I grew up with were not abused; I was there first, I suppose, and even though he had frequent access to me (whereas it was more constant with the other two), I was less of a ‘risk’. Abusing someone right under the nose of others may have been less easy to get away with. I don’t know, C – I’m rationalising here, but I just get the feeling those two granddaughters were left alone.
The other two granddaughters came into the picture a lot later, as they’re step-grandchildren. One was about eight, the other six-ish, when they entered the domain of Hotel California. By that point, I must have been about 16, so he’d long since left me alone. One of these girls is, to my knowledge, a bit mental, and has been quite studious in her avoidance of Hotel California over the last few years…so could it have happened to her? It’s possible.
I also wonder if some of Sarah’s mental health problems arise from the same source. She herself told me only a week ago that she attributed her paranoia and depression to her mother, and I believe that to a point; as noted, Maisie didn’t treat her well at all at times. Nonetheless, Daniel and I did speculate that it was quite possible that Paedo had done something to her. But if it did happen, and if she even remembers it, then it’s just one of those things that goes perennially unspoken.
I realise I’m banging on a lot about him abusing females here, and that paedophiles don’t work that way: children are their fodder, regardless of gender. Indeed, way back when I started writing this blog, I was extremely neurotic about Paedo’s great-grandchildren, who are both boys. And yet, possibly because of their backward, pseudo-religious (and therefore homophobic) upbringing, I honestly can’t imagine that he’d fuck a bloke of any age.
The long and the short of it: I don’t think he abused others, but I certainly can’t and wouldn’t rule it out.
Will Maisie’s death allow them to escape? That’s hard to say. Paedo is old now, and I genuinely don’t think he’s been capable for – I don’t know – maybe 10 years or more, of doing much in this line, no matter what his desires may or may not have been. In that sense, one could argue that there’s little to need escape from now, other than the obvious of flashbacks, intrusive memories et al. But on the other hand, the tenacity has gone now, so if anyone did need to escape, I think they probably could. It might be met with some hostility from some of the others, but probably not too much; I’ve largely got away with avoiding the place over the last few years, without much criticism (except from Maisie and Paedo themselves, if that could be deemed ‘criticism’).
On the third hand, newly grown from my abdomen, people – including those that were potentially abused – may feel sorry for Paedo, and ‘rally round’ in his ‘hour of need’. I can see that as definite possibility.
The thing is, despite his dubious past, the last 10 or 15 years of Paedo’s life have been focused almost entirely on caring for Maisie. Now that that is gone, he has no reason to live. It was discussed yesterday – between ScumFan (Sarah’s son), A and I, but apparently between ScumFan and other members of the family too – that Paedo probably doesn’t have very long left on this plane.
I’ve said it before here – I don’t hate the man. I’m utterly and completely indifferent to him. Or is that a lie? I felt sorry for him at one point last night. Either way, I don’t hate him. However, if his wife’s death were to kill him, it might help anyone affected by his abusive behaviour draw a line under it. It might not, of course, but…well, I don’t think it would be a disaster anyway.
Gah, I feel guilty for saying that. I don’t specifically want him to die; it’s just that it might be the least worst resultant outcome of all this.
This reply is ridiculously long, sorry! I’m kind of thinking ‘aloud’ about it. To be honest, I really don’t know what I think about it all. I hope that I wasn’t the only one abused by him, but if I was, I hope that the current situation may allow them some means of escape and/or closure.
Anyway! Sorry again. Thanks for being there C – and all of you. <3 xxx
*hugs* I wish I had something to say. Things have changed, massively for your family and that must be scary. And she was someone you were fond of, whatever her flaws. It’s good that you don’t pretend she was someone she wasn’t, though. When people make someone fake out of a dead person it’s like they kill them twice.
You are getting it seems to me great support from a number of people here. I thought you explained Maisie’s role in your family very well.
One thing I learned in loosing both my parents ten years ago. It’s not only how close you are to the person that matters (people kept asking me how close I was to my dad, for example. I found that unhelpful thought it was wellmeaning…he was my DAD!). It is also the role they had in your life in the past, as well as now, and the role they play in your family.
Human beings seem to greive all of these things when they have feelings about a relative’s death. If someone is the matriarch of your family, her death changes your family as you know it. SInce she was so powerful in your family, your’s feels changed more than some. It’s natural then that you will grieve and have to adapt to the loss of your extended-family-as-you -know it. In a way, that family (if you don’t mind me saying) died with her…but you will have a different extended family, it will just feel different.
It feels to me that you are grieving in part the loss of this close extended family (with M. at the head) as you knew it.
When my parent’s died (one after the other), my grief was larger than some people’s it seemed. I don’t have a partner/boyfriend/spouse or children…ie so no family of my own. TO my surprise, I think I grieved the loss of family. I still grieve it because my extended family is not close. My parent’s loss meant the loss of something else, too, then, to me that it might not to someone else. Some people felt I was overreacting (friends who had not lost parents, were married, had kids.). They did not understand so I did not have support and was judged for my pain. Anyway, I digress a bit about me. It’s good to learn about grief young. Our western society doesn’t do grief very well (their are books about this). Whatever you feel is justified. Because it’s about what the person’s loss means to you. I guess, in fact, that’s the question people might mean when they say “were you close to your Aunt”. They are trying to get to what the loss means to you.
Thanks so much for explaining to us, who root for your every success, what it means to you. That way we can understand and empathise more fully.
xo
L
I don’t have anything to say.
take care.