Have you ever had to deal with a mean relative?
I was inspired to write this because of my mother’s middle sister (my mum is the youngest of three daughters). She was married for 28 years, but her husband was a jerk.
My uncle supposedly wasn’t bad at first, but after about 10 or 11 years of marriage he started acting like a total pig. He used to curse a lot. He once whistled at a young blonde woman while he was taking a break at a formal event - and I observed it:smack:! My maternal grandmother grew suspicious of my uncle and wanted her daughter to divorce him. He was pretty mean to my aunt - he used to yell at her, and I think he actually hit her a few times.
Last July, he made a cruel remark about people with disabilities. I was so angry that I wanted to punch his lights out, and was about to raise my fist before my father restrained me. Apparently my uncle didn’t even remember that I’m disabled. We were at my aunt’s house, and everyone had to leave because of that. Though my parents were a little annoyed at me for almost resorting to violence, they were outright furious with my uncle for provoking me.
My aunt and uncle have a daughter. She is 24. She told me that she is unwilling to get married because she doesn’t want to end up like her mother.
Last October, my aunt filed for divorce. The family was surprised that it was so late, but she told us that her husband was cheating on her with a 26-year-old woman. The divorce was finalised not long before Christmas .(I know, my family isn’t Christian, but it was around that time!) Thankfully, I never have to see this uncle again.
What are your stories?
My grandfather on my father’s side, whom I didn’t know really well because it was a long time ago when he died (so I admit this is mostly second-hand from my mother). My grandmother had died much earlier (before my teens) and he remarried before the body was cool, and sold the graveyard space they’d bought and were holding for my grandmother to be buried in, cremating her instead. He was very racist, which is ironic because he married a half blood native American. Yuchi was the tribe, I’ll add, because it adds to the story – he and his children pronounced it “yucky”. He refused to watch TV shows with black people in them, and made us change the TV channel when we were there, watching it.
But let’s go back some years. 5 kids. The girls all married very young to get out of the house, the men joined the military but fast. My father sent all his pay home for his father to save for when he got home (this was during Viet Nam era). When he got home, he discovered all his possessions had been given away to his siblings, and that all his money was gone – but his dad had a brand spankin’ new blue Cadillac (I rode it in it, it was nice). Which was not willed to him when the man died. My dad came home to nothing. He actually developed issues from this because it was apparently a trend: buying presents for the kids but one or more had to share them. So when my brother and I got together and got my mother and father something to share for Mother’s Day / Dad’s Birthday (both same week, every year), he got really upset. In his 40’s. That’s how much it affected him.
When my dad got married, my grandfather used to come over a lot when he wasn’t home, to “visit”. Then he’d go home to his wife and insinuate that something had happened – that he was having an affair with my mother. Nothing ever happened but he was that much of an asshole to his wife. I think there is more to it than that regarding his wife (abuse, verbal at the very least) but when we were first let in on the truth about Paw Paw, my brother was too young and started crying so my mom clammed up, not wanting him to have a bad picture of his grandfather. When my Maw Maw died of a heart attack, it was discovered in the post mortem that she’d actually had two minor ones previous, but had never even mentioned it to anyone. She had just managed to live through it. Twice.
He found God through his second wife (he was trying to get into heaven, natch) and had a wonderful eulogy about how awesome the man was, during which half the audience beamed in pride and the other grimaced with revulsion.
What a prize, he was.