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Thread: SOA Side Mirror View

  1. #1
    Athene noctua Xenia's Avatar
    Join Date: 02.24.16
    Location: Somewhere in Time
    Posts: 68
    Rank: Brilliant Slut

    Default SOA Side Mirror View

    So, I heard from my uncle finally. He called me this past Sunday after 6 months of evading my calls and messages. My uncle was left in charge of my father’s estate at his death in 2017. I spoke to my uncle in July 2018 and he explained to me that he had to pay off a few of my father’s obligations, and then the remainder of my Dad’s life insurance policies would be split between my sisters and me.

    Now, when I spoke to my uncle, I explained to him how much my sisters needed this break in life. They have both fallen on hard times, due to health issues, and at the time (both, middle aged and still raising children), were living with my mother. I am better off than they are, but I assured my uncle that these funds would be a welcomed gift on both of my sister’s, as well as my own, behalf. But, my mother especially, since she is now 71 years old and still working full time to support my two disabled sisters and their families and she is herself in desperate need of a hip replacement. Poor thang, she hobbles around with a cane to work every day because she hasn’t another choice, financially.

    My parents divorced years ago, after 25 years of a hellacious marriage. My mom and sisters live down in the dirty south, where Dad moved us to years ago with his career. I live about 800 miles north in our hometown, which is three states away. I moved back here over 20 years ago, to be close to Dad. He came back home after the divorce and I was his girl, so I followed. He doted on me in my upbringing and spent way more time with me than either of my sisters. So, I always assumed that I would be the one providing care for him if he needed it in his later years. And I did. He was diagnosed with “Agent Orange” over a decade ago, when several health issues arose. Let’s just say that he was a seriously ill man. And he required a lot of care, which I provided without much help from anyone else. I was all he had.

    His siblings were all busy with their own families and careers. So was I, but I felt it was my duty as his daughter. And Dad was all I had. He was the only extended family I had here. And he was a huge part of my life, besides providing his constant care needs, he was my person. I could talk to him about anything or call him any time day or night. Losing him has been the single most painful thing that I have experienced to date. There is a void that I don’t know how to even address, yet. And it’s been over a year. But, I am hoping that one day I will learn how to deal with that more effectively.

    My uncle, Dad’s baby brother, lifelong Christian, he and his family in the Church any time the doors were open, a well-known “good man”, an upstanding citizen and all around decent human being. He was lucky enough to retire early from a long career at a local National Oil Company refinery 7 years ago. He had a nice career for these parts. He owns a beautiful spacious home, that my grandparents left to him, with a nice pool and new cars and his wife post pics of their entire family (all children and grandchildren, son-in-laws to boot) taking very frequent cruises to tropical paradises on Facebook every other month or so. Nice upstanding, responsible Christian family. They’ve been busy in life.

    Maybe that’s why I haven’t heard from him or my dad’s sisters since Dad died. I mean, we all live in the same town and they know where I live, because they came to my home to visit dad frequently when we brought him home from Hospice near the end. Unfortunately, since he died, I haven’t received a call or visit from any of them. I suppose they are busy with their families and Church activities.

    But, finally, last Sunday my uncle returned my unanswered calls to explain to me that he had planned to follow through with what he had told me back in July, but that he himself fell on hard times and had to use my father’s life insurance money to save his home. It is all gone. “Sissy (this is what my Dad always called me), I hope you can find it in your heart one day to forgive me. But, I had to save my home.”

    “Your confession means nothing, so fuck your attrition.”

    His big beautiful home that was given to him is safe. Thank goodness. My sisters however will remain homeless, disabled and impoverished, I suppose. And my poor mother will be forced to continue supporting them until she falls apart.

    *My thoughts*…[Insert every explicative curse word known to man]

    So, here’s some more of my thoughts lately. I was sharing in recovery group the other day about the show Sons of Anarchy. I shared my understanding of an overarching theme of the show. At least my synthesis of the program led me to this, not sure if anyone else peeped this.

    There were police officers in the show. Now, we as a society tend to be taught to depend on the police, to uphold the law and keep the peace. We are told that the police are the “good guys”. They keep us safe from the “bad people”. But, the cops in this show appeared differently… some of them appeared to be traitorous, on the take and were downright dirty. Sometimes for wrong reasons, but, sometimes for the “right reasons”.

    And then there were the biker gang members. I think the typical perception of biker gangs, is portrayed as them being involved in illegal and immoral activities, such as pornography and smuggling guns, geared up for violence and murder. This would lead someone to think that bikers are the last people one would approach for help to do “the right thing”. But, these bikers had a moral code. They did charity work and performed good deeds. And they, even as dysfunctional as any other American family, were family oriented and bound by loyalty to their friends as well as their families. And breaking that code led to disastrous consequences, usually, for “the right reasons”.

    Also, backing up this theme, was the character “Wendy”. The first few seasons, she was a drug addicted, selfish, despised character. She was shooting up while pregnant even. Her baby daddy, Jax, came to loathe her and shun her. She was shamed, and at times, abused and ridiculed for her addiction. Even after Wendy achieved sobriety, and was well into her recovery, she received mistreatment and ridicule on the regular. But, she maintained. The show didn’t go into her recovery much, but if you know anything about it, you can see evidence that she was employing the principles of recovery in her life. She wasn’t perfect, but she fought a long hard battle. She was courageous. She was patient, humble and long-suffering. And when the show ended, she was the only one who walked away from the fray, unscathed, taking with her the only precious thing that she cared about in the world.

    *Chill bumps* Gets me every time.

    Back to the point. For some reason, old Bible quotes come to mind, something about ravenous wolves in sheep’s clothing. “And pseudo morals work real well on the talk shows for the week but, your selective judgments and good guy badges don't mean to fuck to me.”

    Then there it is. There is no such thing as a “good person” or a “bad person”, I suppose. Are all things just a combination of both? No good or evil, light or dark, black or white. Maybe, we are all just shades of gray. Some are just darker than others.

    And I suppose objects in mirror are closer than they appear.
    Last edited by Xenia; 02-03-2019 at 08:27 PM. Reason: Formatting and grammatical err


    "For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places." Ephesians 6:12, KJV

  2. #2
    (TwentyThree) Two Faced Egg (23)'s Avatar
    Join Date: 01.28.15
    Posts: 782
    Rank: Crimson Soil

    Default

    Quote Originally Posted by Xenia View Post
    So, I heard from my uncle finally. He called me this past Sunday after 6 months of evading my calls and messages. My uncle was left in charge of my father’s estate at his death in 2017. I spoke to my uncle in July 2018 and he explained to me that he had to pay off a few of my father’s obligations, and then the remainder of my Dad’s life insurance policies would be split between my sisters and me.

    Now, when I spoke to my uncle, I explained to him how much my sisters needed this break in life. They have both fallen on hard times, due to health issues, and at the time (both, middle aged and still raising children), were living with my mother. I am better off than they are, but I assured my uncle that these funds would be a welcomed gift on both of my sister’s, as well as my own, behalf. But, my mother especially, since she is now 71 years old and still working full time to support my two disabled sisters and their families and she is herself in desperate need of a hip replacement. Poor thang, she hobbles around with a cane to work every day because she hasn’t another choice, financially.

    My parents divorced years ago, after 25 years of a hellacious marriage. My mom and sisters live down in the dirty south, where Dad moved us to years ago with his career. I live about 800 miles north in our hometown, which is three states away. I moved back here over 20 years ago, to be close to Dad. He came back home after the divorce and I was his girl, so I followed. He doted on me in my upbringing and spent way more time with me than either of my sisters. So, I always assumed that I would be the one providing care for him if he needed it in his later years. And I did. He was diagnosed with “Agent Orange” over a decade ago, when several health issues arose. Let’s just say that he was a seriously ill man. And he required a lot of care, which I provided without much help from anyone else. I was all he had.

    His siblings were all busy with their own families and careers. So was I, but I felt it was my duty as his daughter. And Dad was all I had. He was the only extended family I had here. And he was a huge part of my life, besides providing his constant care needs, he was my person. I could talk to him about anything or call him any time day or night. Losing him has been the single most painful thing that I have experienced to date. There is a void that I don’t know how to even address, yet. And it’s been over a year. But, I am hoping that one day I will learn how to deal with that more effectively.

    My uncle, Dad’s baby brother, lifelong Christian, he and his family in the Church any time the doors were open, a well-known “good man”, an upstanding citizen and all around decent human being. He was lucky enough to retire early from a long career at a local National Oil Company refinery 7 years ago. He had a nice career for these parts. He owns a beautiful spacious home, that my grandparents left to him, with a nice pool and new cars and his wife post pics of their entire family (all children and grandchildren, son-in-laws to boot) taking very frequent cruises to tropical paradises on Facebook every other month or so. Nice upstanding, responsible Christian family. They’ve been busy in life.

    Maybe that’s why I haven’t heard from him or my dad’s sisters since Dad died. I mean, we all live in the same town and they know where I live, because they came to my home to visit dad frequently when we brought him home from Hospice near the end. Unfortunately, since he died, I haven’t received a call or visit from any of them. I suppose they are busy with their families and Church activities.

    But, finally, last Sunday my uncle returned my unanswered calls to explain to me that he had planned to follow through with what he had told me back in July, but that he himself fell on hard times and had to use my father’s life insurance money to save his home. It is all gone. “Sissy (this is what my Dad always called me), I hope you can find it in your heart one day to forgive me. But, I had to save my home.”

    “Your confession means nothing, so fuck your attrition.”

    His big beautiful home that was given to him is safe. Thank goodness. My sisters however will remain homeless, disabled and impoverished, I suppose. And my poor mother will be forced to continue supporting them until she falls apart.

    *My thoughts*…[Insert every explicative curse word known to man]

    So, here’s some more of my thoughts lately. I was sharing in recovery group the other day about the show Sons of Anarchy. I shared my understanding of an overarching theme of the show. At least my synthesis of the program led me to this, not sure if anyone else peeped this.

    There were police officers in the show. Now, we as a society tend to be taught to depend on the police, to uphold the law and keep the peace. We are told that the police are the “good guys”. They keep us safe from the “bad people”. But, the cops in this show appeared differently… some of them appeared to be traitorous, on the take and were downright dirty. Sometimes for wrong reasons, but, sometimes for the “right reasons”.

    And then there were the biker gang members. I think the typical perception of biker gangs, is portrayed as them being involved in illegal and immoral activities, such as pornography and smuggling guns, geared up for violence and murder. This would lead someone to think that bikers are the last people one would approach for help to do “the right thing”. But, these bikers had a moral code. They did charity work and performed good deeds. And they, even as dysfunctional as any other American family, were family oriented and bound by loyalty to their friends as well as their families. And breaking that code led to disastrous consequences, usually, for “the right reasons”.

    Also, backing up this theme, was the character “Wendy”. The first few seasons, she was a drug addicted, selfish, despised character. She was shooting up while pregnant even. Her baby daddy, Jax, came to loathe her and shun her. She was shamed, and at times, abused and ridiculed for her addiction. Even after Wendy achieved sobriety, and was well into her recovery, she received mistreatment and ridicule on the regular. But, she maintained. The show didn’t go into her recovery much, but if you know anything about it, you can see evidence that she was employing the principles of recovery in her life. She wasn’t perfect, but she fought a long hard battle. She was courageous. She was patient, humble and long-suffering. And when the show ended, she was the only one who walked away from the fray, unscathed, taking with her the only precious thing that she cared about in the world.

    *Chill bumps* Gets me every time.

    Back to the point. For some reason, old Bible quotes come to mind, something about ravenous wolves in sheep’s clothing. “And pseudo morals work real well on the talk shows for the week but, your selective judgments and good guy badges don't mean to fuck to me.”

    Then there it is. There is no such thing as a “good person” or a “bad person”, I suppose. Are all things just a combination of both? No good or evil, light or dark, black or white. Maybe, we are all just shades of gray. Some are just darker than others.

    And I suppose objects in mirror are closer than they appear.
    https://youtu.be/b-7NI-npKt0
    "Fake realities will create fake humans. Or, fake humans will generate fake realities and sell them to other humans, turning them, eventually, into forgeries of themself" -Philip K. Dick

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