Family

Family can be a pain in the ass. At least for me. I love 'em, but I don't really miss them, and I'm fine seeing them every couple of years. I don't even talk to them on the phone that much, even though cost isn't an issue, because I usually come away from the conversation depressed. It was so depressing to be at my parents' house last summer that we eventually left to go to a motel. There are many reasons why talking to them, or sometimes even just thinking of their situation, depresses me.

First of all, the house. It's the house I grew up in, but it's so run down and musty and full of junk that I can't stand to look at it anymore. It was built by my dad, but unfortunately it's falling apart. It's drafty and the only source of heat in the main part of the house is a wood stove which tried its best to battle the wind drafting in, as well as heat up a large, open space with high, open-beamed ceilings. My parents try to get some extra heat from electric heaters, but you kind of have to snuggle up to them, still with layers of blankets on you, to feel warm. My bedroom was the only one with a good electric floorboard heater that was actually put in when the house was built. When I went home for Christmas when I was in college, I would practically live in my bedroom since it was the only place that was decently warm. But there would always be windstorms that would knock out the power, leading to me desperately trying to keep the heat in my room, a battle I always lost, so I'd spend a night or two frozen until we got the power back. It's what makes me hate strong winds even now, even though it's rare to lose the electricity here.

For years now, the upstairs bathroom has been leaking into my bedroom which is below it. My room is carpeted, so it's soaked up water over and over again, and has not been cleaned, or in many cases even tried to be dried, so it smells moldy and nasty in most of the downstairs.

Those are two of the main problems, but on top of that there's the upstairs wooden floor that has been flaking away over the years, so it's all splintery; the leaking ceiling; the piles of dust and dirt and cobwebs; and the junk thrown into every corner. I'm not a neatnik, far from it (probably due to growing up in this house), but I just couldn't take it anymore when we were last there. I shudder to think of the day when that house will have to be emptied.

So, the house. It's not the only thing breaking down. My parents also have had one car after another break down on them to the point they couldn't afford to fix it. Once my mom completely toasted the engine of her car because my dad refused to have something in the radiator replaced (which only cost about 50 bucks, maybe less) and my mom was too tired after work to deal with it in any way, so she drove home. She made it, but the engine was dead after running with no water in the radiator.

Apparently my dad isn't driving anymore anyway, which is for the best. He's old, and his age is showing more and more. He's never been a good driver (he thinks going about 40 mph on country roads is pushing it speed-wise), but now he doesn't see well at night and I just don't think he has the reaction time and overall health to be driving. More importantly, he's having worse and worse problems with his short-term memory. Anytime I call home, I have the same conversation at least twice with him because he's forgotten what he already asked me. I swore that when we arrived to visit last summer he was going to find it a surprise because he'd have forgotten we were coming, but he seemed to remember. At least he still knows who I am and even always asks how O is. It's hard on my mom though, obviously, because she has to repeat herself so much (and usually at a loud volume because he can't hear well) but my dad also gets into arguments with her because he thinks she didn't tell him something when she did. When we were there, we were looking at photos my mom took when she came to Amsterdam the previous September. My dad suddenly said in a grave voice "why don't you think to show these photos to me? Don't you think I'd like to see them?" Which of course he had done already, a couple of times. But he ended up yelling at my mom that she was keeping him out of things on purpose, and no amount of telling him he doesn't remember things is going to help the situation.

Unfortunately, my mom is home with him more often because she lost her job in the spring. She's been trying to find something else, but I think it's hard, especially at her age.

And then there's my younger brother, who is 24 and still lives at home, along with his girlfriend. It's taken so long for him to get a life together. He went to college for about a year, then sat around on his ass for about 2-3 years not really working, and certainly not earning enough money to move out. He fortunately has a full-time job now that he likes, and his girlfriend has one as well. But they still haven't moved out. They have, however, bought a widescreen TV and a DVD player and expensive games and mountain bikes and my brother has a new car. Funny that they have the money for those things.

So I called home last night to say Merry Christmas to everyone, and early on I spoke to my brother and I made the mistake of asking when he was planning to move out. It lead to this argument where he was telling me "you don't know anything about me" and "who are you to tell me what I should do?" and "screw you." My brother can be a tad defensive. I got handed off to my dad (while I could hear my brother in the background ranting to his girlfriend about what I'd said), and eventually to my mom, and when I heard her voice I couldn't hold back crying anymore. She guessed it was to do with what my brother had been saying to me and she said to just ignore him and not let him get to me. In the end though, after I got off the phone with my family, and now, I actually don't feel so angry anymore that my brother still lives at home. He told me that he gives my mom money to help out with things, though he didn't say how much or for what. (When I was there in the summer, my mom said he paid $100 a month for living there, which I found a joke. Maybe he does help out more now.) Also, as he and my mom both said, it's good for my mom to have someone else there because my dad is driving my mom nuts.

Overall, I came away with a stronger feeling of "just let it go" than I had before. I usually have that feeling, but more for my own protection, because I can't do much about their situation anyway, so I try to remain ignorant of my mom still not having a job and the car breaking down again and all the other problems. I won't ask my brother again if he's moving out. He probably won't talk to me anyway. I still can't think too much about their lives though, how unchanging it is, and how stoic my mom is about it. She doesn't seem worried that she hasn't worked for most of the year and she's never even talked to a doctor about what can be done to help my dad's memory problems, even though I said she really needs to 6 months ago when I was visiting. When I mentioned it on the phone yesterday, it was as if the idea had never occurred to her, she's just been living with it, not thinking that maybe something can be done. I feel like when we visit again next year, probably at least 6 months from now, it's very likely none of this will have changed. I don't understand how they can live this way, but all I can do is leave them to it.