It can’t happen too soon, but it will be my father-in-law. He’s an abusive asshole who also has bipolar syndrome and just loves the highs way too much to ever deal with it, much less ever be sorry about the chaos he causes under its effects.
He committed years of physical, mental, and emotional abuse against his family, and probably sexual against his wife from what they’ve begun to figure out. He only stopped hitting my husband when as a late teen he caught his dad’s punch. The kids only stay in touch out of motives like Catholic/familial guilt, wanting to stay in contact with their mom out of love and worry, etc. I half-joke that a couple of them have Stockholm syndrome because of how they reflexively defend their father versus their mother. (At least two finally admitted - decades out of their childhood years - that their mother has some level of blame in this because she didn’t protect them.) He’s good at “schmoozing” with strangers or those outside the family, especially if he wants something, but do something he doesn’t want and things change quickly. He wasn’t able to keep up the facade forever, so he’s lost almost all of his ‘friends’ except one who lives far away and sees him maybe once a year for old times’ sake.
I’ve ranted about him a lot before, so I’ll just throw out his latest stunt. My MIL has moderate Alzheimer’s along with other ailments; she still knows who we are but some more recent memories are fading. He hates any “weird” foods like Thai, Indian, and so on, while my MIL loves them. For two of her past birthdays, we’ve taken her to Indian restaurants and he was insufferable the entire time. This year he lied to my husband and my SILs about who suggested the location - a Bohemian restaurant that he loves. Yup, one day out of a year, on his wife’s birthday, he couldn’t pick the restaurant, and so he spread a little web of lies to make it happen. His wife who might enjoy a little pleasure like that while her memories and understanding are still somewhat intact. But it always has to be about him.
I didn’t sing hosannas or dance in the streets, but… There was a district manager at the company I used to work for who repeatedly lied to me and screwed me over in a manner that cost me over a quarter million in lost salary. I’m not saying that was unusual treatment for employees at that company, but it was me that was getting shafted. When she got some kind of cancer and died in her late forties, I just thought “too bad, bitch”.
There was one person I worked with who would never ever admit he did anything wrong. He would give me stuff to do that was done incorrectly, I would do it with the information he gave me, then he would find some way to make it my fault. I took to making copies of the things he gave me before giving them back to him, so I had proof of what he gave me.
When he died suddenly in a freakly accident, I was very glad. We also found out his information on his past was total bullshit. Guy was just a lying sack of shit, to use a Cecilism.
Most definitely. I had an aunt who died two years ago. I had mixed emotions about it. On the one hand, I was happy she was dead. On the other, I had hoped she would have had a much longer, drawn-out, painful, lingering death. As it turned out, her terminal illness lasted only three months. I’m pretty sure one day I’ll feel guilty about thinking that, but I have not seen that day yet. It reminds me, too. . . I promised I was going to leave a “gift” behind on her grave. Might need to make a road trip soon. After a very high fiber meal.
Sure have. A number of (former) students of mine have met untimely ends over the years to my joy and satisfaction. Most were shot by rivals in the drug trade. A couple suicided. Several died behind the wheel of a car. These were people whose daily life consisted mainly of making everyone around them unhappy. To say I felt the least bit of sorrow at their passing would make me wildy hypocritical.
My stepfather is almost exactly the same way. I will be glad when he’s gone. We’ve never had a good relationship, especially after I witnessed him slap my mother (the first time was when I was 6.) I’ve offered my mother a place to stay, but she keeps going back to him. It’s only gotten worse as I’ve grown older. He’s even gone so far as to give my ex-wife money to assist her with challenging custody of our son, and it is rumored he and my ex have been sleeping together. I haven’t spoken to my mother or him in years, and will feel the world is a better place once he has left it.
My uncle was an abusive asshole. He ruined his two beautiful sons. He always told them their mom was a bitch, mean, horrible. She actually wasn’t a peach herself but he was beyond the pale. He used to give them sips of beer when they were babies. He beat their mom, though of course she never admitted it (it was a love marriage that everyone disapproved of). He used to look at my ass, I was fifteen at the time. He used to try to get me in a corner and stand really close and ogle me and try to paw at me. He also used to ask detailed, offensive questions. I hated him.
I was very happy when he died. The only thing that saddened me was his method of dying - he decided, after the gas station he had worked at had been robbed five times, to try to stop the robber the sixth time. The robber shot him, and he bled to death. However, his kids and his wife were right there. His sons were pre-teens, and you know that’s gotta have fucked them up. Maybe he was trying to show off for them, who knows. It just shows that even the most evil people have prople who mourn them. Still, it was for the best - they would have turned out into carbon copies of him. As it is they are lazy fat slobs just like their mother but they are not actually evil.
I won’t be thrilled or ecstatic when my mom dies, but I will be…relieved. I feel guilt over that, though.
When I was deployed, the bulk of our business was locals, either Afghan National Army, Police, or unfortunate civilians. If they were very badly wounded, their future entailed weeks/months of painful procedures with us, (at, by the way, huge expense to the American taxpayer) then…what? There are no rehab facilities in Afghanistan, damn few opportunities for prosthetics, and most of their families are too poor to provide for an invalid. Though, like Qadgop, we did everything humanly possible to keep them alive and make them as comfortable as possible, it was pretty much a relief when one of them died right away. Then, of course, there were the enemy combatants we treated. Although we gave them the exact same level of care than everyone else got, my only regret at one of their deaths was that they wouldn’t be able to pass on any information they might have.
I was bullied in grade school by a mean and obnoxious stereotypical bully. He went out of his way to victimize the weakest, and I certainly qualified as the weakest. I was the youngest, shyest girl in our grade and he made my life miserable for a couple of years.
Years later, our grade school graduating class was having a reunion. I told the organizer that I wasn’t coming if [bully] was going to be there. He said “Haven’t you heard? He’s dead! He was one of the passengers on that famous commercial jet crash out of San Diego a couple of years ago!” I instantly said “Awesome! Yessss! I’ll be there!”. I think I freaked the organizer out with my heartlessness.
My godmother’s husband. Depressive alcoholic. We used to hide the good liquor when they came over for thanksgiving. Hadn’t had a job in 10 years, but managed all the family’s money (including godmother’s income). Made godmother feel guilty for spending any of her hard-earned money on something “frivolous”, while he consumed a quart of whiskey and two packs a day. Never physically abusive, but definitely emotionally abusive. The last time they came to visit, I wasn’t very nice to him. Not overtly rude, but didn’t really make any effort to engage in conversation with him. He later confronted me (alone, in my bedroom), put a hand on the back of my neck, and pushed. He was clearly trying to bend me over to spank me. While exuding weird sexual vibes. Ftr, I was 21 - a little old for spanking (and my parents never spanked). I resisted without making a scene, but it was really weird and creepy. To the point that that’s the first thing I think of when I think of him. I was glad he died so he could stop emotionally abusing his wife, and before the weird sexual vibe developed into a problem.
Yes. My cousin. He was someone you could never believe a word he was saying. He would come out with such outlandish lies, you would have to be a moron to give any credibility to anything he said.
He was always in trouble, in and out of jail. Small-time drug dealer who was a two-bit criminal trying to be a big player. In one such crime, another thug knifed him and nearly killed him. He survived to go on to be married and molest his step-daughters.
He was hospitalized numerous times (sometimes while in prison) for severe beatings. After one such beating, he died from an infection. Goodbye, good riddance. Glad we at least had different surnames.
About a year after his death, I noticed his photo & profile was still on the sex offenders registry, and it stated he was wanted. I obtained a copy of his death certificate and burial record, and I sent them along with a copy of his obit letting the state know the piece of crap was dead. They were probably happy, too.
Years ago I worked in a hardware store, and one of our frequent customers was a cranky, old man that just made my life miserable every time he came in the store. Nothing was right, nothing was ever good enough, no matter how hard I tried to be nice and helpful. When I heard he had died, I said something to the effect of “good riddance”. I felt a little guilty when someone chided me about that, but not much.
A couple years ago it came out that someone I had known since I was a kid was involved in some pretty awful stuff. There as no mourning when I found out a few months ago that he had a heart attack in prison.