Blood Ties

My first real funeral today. I've been to some great... grand aunt's or whatever funeral when I was a small kid, but I didn't really know her, the whole thing was just a bit creepy and mostly boring and nothing that really moved me or stayed with me for a very long time. Well... and today they put my father in the ground. Or his urn, anyway. How weird. I thought someone would get to take it home, scatter the ashes or something, but apparently urns are buried over here. Hm.

My father was not a religious man. Left church and everything, but forced me into the whole Confirmation ceremony against my will when I was a teenager, the bastard! Heh! So, no clerical speeches or anything, no singing and organ music and some people just said a few things here and there, they played some of my father's favourite tunes and... well, as his eldest son, I couldn't exactly get out of this one. Godzilla knows I wanted to! His own sister and one of his brothers refused to speak. They didn't know what to say. Long story. Very little contact for a very long time, some unresolved stuff, that kinda thing. I had to. And... well, if you're somewhat familiar with this blog, then you'll know how I feel about my father. Somebody once said it doesn't matter how hard you try or how badly you want to avoid fucking up, your kids will eventually blame and/or hate you, anyway. I don't know about that, I didn't hate him, but he sure as fuck didn't try. He cared in his own weird way, which I'll probably never fully understand or appreciate. Maybe one day, when I'll be a little oder and wiser, had more time to think.

Everyone had their little notes, printed, written speeches, it was all a bit stiff and... well, you can probably imagine. Funerals, right? I had my own little note when it was my turn. I just stood there, petrified. They just had to play "Who wants to live forever" right before my turn (macabre, huh?) - there were fourty, fifty people, half of which were family members I haven't seen in a decade or more. Or folks who didn't exactly part on good terms. And you're supposed to say something nice about your dead father.

I looked at the note, shook my head, laughed a bit and just rolled up the whole damn thing into a little ball in front of everybody and said, "Fuck it." Well, the German equivalent, obviously. And that's when some people just stared in shock and others were getting ready to drag me away, because they already feared for the worst. Weeeell... I may have a bit of a reputation.
Then I spoke up. And I fucking killed it. Look... I don't wanna repeat all the crap and the thoughts I've already written down on this blog in the past few days, but that's basically what it came down to. I just spoke, I didn't read anything, and god fucking dammit did it feel great to swear and cuss in church and... hey, let's not go through the whole damn thing again. Just read the older entries, that's why they're here. I didn't go with the angry, hateful one, of course, but that's all part of the grieving process, I had to get it out of my system and I'm leaving that on here.

Whole thing only took a few minutes and at the end of it my step brother started clapping. Long story. We used to be really close and eventually fell out over something entirely trivial. Haven't talked ever since. I tried, he wouldn't respond, we were all a bit messed up, difficult times. He clapped. Then somebody else joined in. And a few others. Before the end of the day just about every visitor approached me and said they were really moved and impressed by what I said. Even one of my uncles, my dad's little brother, who couldn't get himself to speak up, came to me and said he was grateful for what I said, because it felt like I spoke for everyone, said what everybody felt and it was honest and came from the heart and... hey, I'm gonna stop going into this any further now. What I'm trying to say is, it really is possible to take a few happy memories away from something as shitty as a funeral.

As for the rest of the family, well... most of us just grew apart over the years. Naturally and not in a bad way. You grow up, turn into an adult with your own life, family and responsibilities and then you don't hang as much with your aunts and uncles and you just stop knowing each other, if that makes any sense. Most find it easy to talk to little kids (I don't, fucking hate it, but that's a different story), but then that lil nephew of yours is suddenly a grownup and a complete stranger and... well, you know. Sometimes you just don't talk. You don't make the time, there's no bad blood or anything, there's just a whole lotta nothin'. And... I dunno. I'm not a family guy. Never been. I don't keep any close friends, I don't come to weddings, funerals and all that shit if I can at all avoid it, but today was... well, funerals are never nice, but seeing everyone, talking, it felt good. Of course it's easy to get sentimental when somebody dies and I don't know how much of this will stick once I get this whole death thing out of my system, but I genuinely liked seeing them again.

As for the closer relatives, well... my former stepmother is a bit fast on blaming my old man for just about every bad thing that ever happened to us, but there's no point in arguing, I won't change her view on things, she has hers, I have mine, what's done is done. She does have a genuine interest in my life in the UK though, the pets, the shop, Claire... she wanted to see a few pictures and videos and stuff and it's all easy enough to share and it only takes five minutes to put a little something together. I don't think I'll ever fly down there for some happy fun times or anything, but if she has a genuine interest, well, why the hell not, go send that email, show those pictures she asked for, go from there. Better than dead silence or hard feelings.

I poked my stepsister in the boob, which means we're cool. Don't worry, we don't Lannister each other or anything like that. We're German. I come from a family where it's perfectly normal to expose your tits at the dining table for various reasons. It was perfectly normal for my stepmother to expose Claire's tits when they had known each other for about 20 minutes. She (stepmother) went and took her (Claire's) shirt off. True story.

Sigh... too much typing about tits and Claire and... I can't wait to get back home. At the risk of shocking certain family members, let's just say we tend to be rather... ahem... active. Yes, close this website now and come back when the next entry is up, because you probably don't want to know. But since people are stupid on the internet and share everything and because it's totally on my brain right now... yeah, once a day is usually our absolute minimum, twice or three times is more realistic and that's really when work, gaming and other important stuff keeps us too busy for more. I've been here since Thursday morning. Now it's Sunday. I'd be jacking it right the fuck now, till my arm falls off, if I wasn't at my brother's house. Call me prude, but somehow I just don't think it's nice to touch your dick at somebody else's home, then touch their things. And you never know where... you know. Where to? What on? That stuff has a nasty habit of going all over the place when it's been a while and I wouldn't want somebody else's cream of mushroom on my personal belongings, so I just gotta be chaste and sleep like a bicycle. You know, on a little stand. Come to think of it, I'm only allowed to take 100ml of fluid with me to the airport. Hmm...

So many thoughts. So many emotions. And feeling a little feckish. I should go to sleep and fast-forward to a moment a little closer to my flight back home.

-Cat