Everyone reacts differently, as I’m sure you know. Hey, if Boy 1 still wants contacts go for it - life goes on, some people find comfort in doing something and maybe he does. Fine if they want to talk about it - I’m assuming they have little experience with death and kids are curious as well as all the other emotions that go with this sort of thing.
{{{hugs}}} for everyone.
What is brother/widower doing in all this? Is he in contact with the children? Is he at a higher risk for suicide now? Is he pitiful?
No, I have no other reason for asking than pure nosiness.
Frankly, I know my preconceptions are at okay and I am not a reliable narrator. But. When I watched him
him hold his daughter in the worst moment of her life I thought “fake! Fake!”. He didn’t cry. He just put his head down. His affect through the whole thing had been flat. Granted, I’m the first one to be furious when people look at the loved ones of a victim and say their responses make them look guilty. But everyone, even my dad, is desperately hoping that the autopsy report is absolutely conclusive, one way or another. Anyway, he’s staying in my parents’ house tonight and my mom is scared he may want to make that a more long term arrangement so she laid down the law with my dad. Eek, complicated.
But god, do my parents have amazing friends. Seriously, you want to see the extra mile? It’s here in this house.
Did he agree to allow an autopsy or did the police just insist on one?
Has he brought up yet about how the kids are going to have to come back to his place - especially the daughter - so they can look after him and support him?
It’s strange. Her sister and mother got into town tonight and when I was out on the porch with my mom and dad I kept hearing her sister’s voice which was so much like her voice and I started crying, but I couldn’t tell if it was because, shit, I’ll never hear her voice again because she is well and truly dead, or because I feel like shit because I’m such an asshole that I can’t mourn the passing of this human being, no matter how awful she was. I guess I feel pretty complicated too - definitely didn’t expect to be lying in bed crying now that I’ve finally escaped that house.
Thank you guys so much for listening and not being afraid to judge. It means so much to have a reality check with people who very gently don’t care if they hurt my feelings. I’ve been thinking today about how the hell I would tell the kids if there were, let’s say, untoward results, and it means a ton to me to have people who will really tell me if they think I’m being an asshole. Thanks, you guys. (And the Miss Personality award goes to… Bottle of Wine!)
They (the capital-T they) ordered the autopsy. He hasn’t tried that shit, just is shoehorning himself into my mother’s house. Give him time to work up a story. Since he didn’t fight the autopsy, were there Vegas odds I would bet on an inconclusive “took too many sleeping pills” diagnosis.
What I’m afraid of is if it’s inconclusive and ten years from now these kids are adults and they come to me and say “why didn’t you tell us what everybody thought happened ?”
I’m hoping by now the kids would be able to say “The hell, NO!” to such a request.
“You were so young that you were not yet prepared to deal with it. I decided that I would tell you in time, when you were ready.”
So it turns out that none of them have any dress clothes at all. And all the dresses in the stores are Easter. And I forgot how dreadful the juniors department is. Urrrgh. How does a teenage girl not know what size she is? Even vaguely?
good heavens! this is an unexpected curve ball. good thoughts and prayers going your way.
i hope things go well with your brother, the kids have a nice, stable, safe place now. it would be horrible for this to be turned upside down now.
poor kidlet. hearing that your mom passed is tough anytime, but on your birthday? that is really tough. and soon the mother’s day commercials will be starting.
The youngest child, the one who is slow, spoke at the funeral. I’m pretty sure the official sociopath test is whether there was a dry eye in the house when he spoke - I wish I had the text here, but he just gave a very brief speech about how his mom took care of her kids, and was a lot of fun, and loved them a lot, and was kind to her cats. Christ, y’all.
They looked so good in their suits and dress, I’ve got to say - they’s some handsome chillins. And so many people came - from the church, and young friends of the kids. It was great to see the support. And their religion is not mine, but damn is their pastor good - a beautiful service from somebody who knew them well, and then she came by later to make sure we were all doing okay.
Oh, Jesus, what an unexpected shock to have to throw into the mix. I can’t imagine what y’all are going through. It sounds like the children are where they need to be in all of this.
It was Thing Two’s turn to make dinner (we haven’t been able to do it for a few weeks, since they’ve had a lot of church events on the weekends and he’s in a play with a lot of rehearsals) and I have to say, I was a little worried about shrimp scampi because I hate shrimp so I’ve never cooked it. It was absolutely wonderful, though. And I taught him how to make salad dressing and adjust it to his tastes, and how to cut an avocado and to cut an orange so it makes pretty orange pieces for a salad. Just wonderful.
His father sat there across from us stoned out of his gourd on who knows what and didn’t say a word about the dinner except to look askance at the avocado and poke it with his fork like it was a nasty little bug because he’d never had one before. He’s been sleeping at my parents’ house, but I threw a fit and made my dad kick him out, partly because the kids need their stability and he kicked the littlest one out of his bedroom and partly because my mom’s out of town and frankly I’m concerned, and I know this makes me sound paranoid, that he’d mess with my dad’s medication and try to do him in too. Either that or just steal some painkillers, of course.
At least everybody else, even snotty little siblings, told him his dinner was awesome. They want a binder now to keep all their recipes in.
That’s a great idea - maybe you can get a binder where you can slip a title page in the front, and get them to name and decorate it.
Bro kicked out - is that permanent or just for now? It’s not fair that he’d displace one of the kids from his/her room.
It best be permanent - I issued an ultimatum about it. My dad said I was worrying way, way too much, but, shit, y’all. Low percentage chance, but high impact if it happened, right? So I told him that if he didn’t get that sack of shit out of his house, I’d tell bro-dog that I think he did it, that I’ve told other people that I think he did it (including, and this is true, the security manager at work who is an ex-cop and very, very concerned about it because of our Annual Safety and Security Lecture About Workplace Violence - we’re highly encouraged to tell him about anything like an acrimonious divorce or, I don’t know, when you think your brother murdered his wife) and that any little peep of anything out of him would be scrutinized by a lot of people. Which if he has any sense would make everybody completely safe, right? (Yes, I know, I sound like I’m ready for the funny farm myself. Put yourself in the position of thinking somebody is living in your dad’s house who you are 90% sure is a murderer, then judge me for overreacting.) Long story short, fucker is gone. I didn’t want to do that to my dad, but I really did feel it was necessary and frankly I think he was relieved that I took it out of his hands, because I think he felt obligated until I forced his hand. He wasn’t mad, any any rate. We cool.
So the end result is that last night I actually slept for the first time in a week. I slept so hard that Himself let the dog in the bed and I didn’t even wake up, but when he came to bed evidently I calmly explained that I had a dogwall, and gestured along the dog’s back to explain that I had all my people lined up on my dogwall, and that I was going to call Aaron and tell him that he should come to dinner because Thing Two was cooking. Aaron, understand, being the one I was explaining all about the dogwall to. It’s good that he’s used to my crazy sleeptalk.
This parenting thing, y’all, shit. It’s all the time, isn’t it? I don’t know how people do it - it’s like being a bartender or a stripper in that you’re always “on”. I’m always Aunt Sara, commonly pronounced “HEYAUNTSARAYOUKNOWWHAT”, and I can’t be peevish or tired or in a shitty mood. We went to the zoo today and I swear I almost left them at the monkey exhibit to be with their own kind. I heard “Born Free” in my mind. I told them the zookeepers were going to arrest me at the exit for smuggling endangered primates. They’re great, generally, but even so it’s always “WE DON’T HIT” and “BE SWEET” and “WHERE IS MY THIRD CHILD I CAME WITH THREE AND I DON’T WANT TO BE AUDITED”. You’re always looking out the side of your eyes to make sure they’re all there. We almost ended up with an extra one because I was so careful to herd mine that for a minute I acquired somebody else’s. (Busy day at the zoo - it’s February and it was 82 degrees out.) Hell if I know how people do this every moment of every day.
You’ll get used to it honey. 
Once you get a system going.
I can’t tell you how THRILLED I am that the Bro is out of your parents’ house. I wasn’t going to say anything but that’s been troubling me. Good for you.
What you did here made it easy on your Dad – he can tell your brother it’s all your fault: “I’m not that concerned, but your sister is crazy upset about this, so to keep peace you have to go back to your house…”.
Which is just fine. Your brother already knows what you think of his actions, and your father doesn’t need any more stress on him right now.
Well, one benefit is that my biological clock has been stopped, like, terminally. Now when I see young men with babies I think “Christ, when that kid learns to talk it isn’t going to shut up” instead of “Oh, wouldn’t a baby be sweet?” I cannot imagine what would make anybody have three in three and a half years (I mean, unless you’re incredibly stupid and very bad at predicting consequences of your behavior.)
Oh, and now Thing Three wants to learn how to play the drums.
But that rather sounds like your brother & his late wife!
Buy a nice set of them – to be kept at his fathers house.
I’m thinking cymbals.