I regret to inform you

...

that this blog is now temporarily re-dedicated to me complaining about my dad's cancer, his certain (and soon) death, and my RAGE at how my step-mother is behaving.

My brother and I bought tickets to SC. In the process of buying the tickets, we discovered that if we stayed over night Saturday (this would be after our 2-3 hour visitation with our father) we would actually save money, even with the hotel bill. Then we discovered that by staying over on Sunday night, the price dropped down to almost nothing. Making it, again, cheaper to stay another night.

Then, of course, we go to thinking. We thought: Well. We'll tell them we are staying in town because the flights are cheaper. Then we'll tell them we'll be around if they need help.

Then, of course, we realized that my step-mother would feel manipulated. She does not want us to come. And she DEFINITELY does not want us to show up on Sunday or Monday.

Then, of course, we thought again. We thought: Well. We'll just make it clear that we do not expect an invitation. We'll tell them we are going by the hospital to thank the ICU team who saved his life last October. We'll tell them not to sweat it if they would rather us not come back. It's not that big a deal, right????

So we book the tickets.


Then my dad calls my brother this afternoon just to chat and my brother, who is a pretty honest and forthright sort of guy, tells my dad we will be in town for a few days and that he can call if he needs anything. Dad likes this idea. He recommends a place for us to stay. We are greatly relieved because we believe our Dad is ok with this and is not in the least worried about us trying to shove our way into the house and upset his wife.

(I am sure I don't need to point out how profoundly fucked up it is that we are no longer welcome in our father's home. What the FUCK?)

We are happy. There will be no weirdness and no subterfuge. It's all out on the table.

I spend three hours changing our hotel booking so that we are a bit closer to the house. It costs me about $400 to make the change.

Then I get a call from my Aunt, the wife of my Dad's twin brother. She tells me that she just had the oddest phone call ever from Dad. She says Dad called, and that his wife was on the line too. Dad told her that it was VERY important to him that me, my brother, and my sister arrive at the house by 12:45. He said that we should not be late. He said "they have a plane to catch later." He refused to tell my aunt why.

Now, the airport is one hour and twenty minutes from the house. There is no way in the world we are going to make it on time because our plane is due in at 11:45. My aunt tries to explain this to Dad, but Dad is adamant, and his wife remains silent. My aunt presses for an explanation, and none is given. Dad (nor his wife) will explain why we need to be that at that time.

Nina's hypothesis: Dad got off the phone with Buzz and told 'cita that we were going to be in town until Monday. She, feeling usurped BY US BEING IN THE SAME COUNTY told my dad that she doesn't want us here and that we are not to be allowed back on Sunday or Monday and that obviously, we were trying to manipulate her (and him). She then calls the family priest and hospice and arranges to have a meeting AT 12:45 in which we are told by hospice (and the family priest) that we, his children from his first marriage or SO YESTERDAY and that it is no longer about us, and that we will NOT be given another opportunity to see him, regardless of how long we camp out in a hotel 15 minutes away.

In fact, I can pretty much gaurantee you this is what is going to happen. What breaks my heart is that no one is even thinking about my dad. My dad is probably, though he says not, scared, worried, and nervous about dying. Does he need this? I don't think so... and yet here is my step mother, after he specifically said he wanted us there - to the point of giving us the phone number to the place he wanted us to stay - telling my dad to call and summon us to some top -secret bullshit meeting... in which we'll be told to leave. How's THAT for love? How's THAT compassion for my dad?

It makes me so sick I don't even know what to say.