This is when I started to have major problems with his family especially his sister. I used to stay with her from time to time because my mother may have hated my father by this time but she still wanted me to have some family on his side to be friendly with. That stopped however when she would not come pick me up on time, or take me home on time, or even show up sometimes. My “aunt” was not very reliable and she got less so as time went on and she even started getting nasty with me because I didn’t want to see my father. My cousins on his side, save for one, also started acting the same way so I stopped going over there altogether and that relationship got broken too. I now basically had no family on my father’s side of the family; I was missing that whole half of the family tree and I really didn’t mind. If they wanted to be like that, to be the kind of people that could be so non-caring, so nasty, so evil to their own flesh and blood then so be it. I don’t need them and I want nothing to do with them. That is how it has stayed and that is how it will stay with my “father’s” immediate family. I don’t even remember what the man looks like now so you so you know it has been a very long time since I saw him last and honestly it doesn’t bother me. Now you would think that they would leave me alone for the rest of my life seeing as they couldn’t care whether I lived or died for all these years but you’d be wrong. They are trying to snake their way back in now that I’m an adult but we will save that for later. It’s now time to talk about my mother’s past and her family.
My mother was the 2nd youngest of 8 children and a bit of a wild child. She was always fighting with her sisters and even some of her brothers. Of course she would always say that they started it (I that try? I don’t know, I wasn’t there) but maybe she was like this because they made her feel like she was the black sheep of the family. They would pick on her and mistreat her but her mother was always there to defend her. Man did she love her mother. You don’t know how many stories I heard growing up about how wonderful she was. How she was a great waitress, an excellent mother, and all around wonderful person. My mother told me how she would always pick strays (be they animals or people) invite them into her home. All the people my mother knew always said how lucky she was to have her mother and that they wish her mother was also their mother. It’s a shame I never got to meet her, she died of cancer long before I was born. My mother’s father on the other hand was a whole other story though. He was a mean old man that would beat his family if they didn’t do what he told them to do when he told them to do it. (what is it with dads in this family!) There was more than one occasion when he would beat my mother with a switch for not listening to him. He even used to hit my grandmother for a while until she threated to kill him in his sleep if he ever hit her again (she may have nice but she knew when she had to be tough) and that’s when him beating on her stopped, though I don’t know why she would let him hit their children, different times I guess. Now for some reason he was really nice to everyone who wasn’t part of his family. I mean he would take in animals, homeless people, almost anyone who was not related to him, a real puzzle he was. Even though he was a mean old man he kept the family together after grandma died and he did until he died in 2002.