This next piece is what happened after dad passed. Death has a way of bringing out the worst in some people I have discovered over the years. It shouldn't be this way, but people's true colours seem to shine through and they aren't always the pretty rainbow we imagine them to be. This is a pretty graphic piece but it was written from the heart. The most important focus of it being the help I had from within.
Which brings me to families….are they all
dysfunctional? The advent of death brings them all swooping in from their
rookeries like starving vultures, at least in our family it did!! At seventeen I hadn’t been privy to the
‘family politics’ but I learnt fast and with the help of the Amazon sheltering
within, waged a battle that saw the vultures sliced, diced, served on a platter
and deposited back on the doorstep of their own world never to be seen or heard
from again.
The matriarch of the vulture colony was my
father’s sister, Queen of all the lands she surveyed (and the first to arrive).
All the other little vultures scurried along behind ready to do her bidding. Now,
you need to cast your minds back in time a little, when all this happened 35
years ago my mother was a product of the 'Bex Powders and Valium set' (no offense to my also deceased mother, it is just simple fact and seemed to be what they did back then), self
medicate to manage, don’t let life get in the way!!! Mother was a basket case
and the very first thing on the agenda was heading off to her doctor to
stockpile the Valium. The vulture Queen drove along with us and upon arrival
managed to utter her joy at being able to see the old doc again, “Haven’t seen
him in years, I’ll come in with you.” The Amazon within me wasn’t having any of this, her
fire blew full force and told the vulture Queen, in no uncertain terms,
if she wanted to see doc so and so, she would need to make her own
appointment!! Mother was quite capable of going it alone thankyou very much.
Round One, done and dusted, mother didn’t even have to say a word. The silence
that followed would have dropped the Antarctic temperature to a record low.
Next of course were all the preliminary
arrangements, funeral parlour, casket, how to dress him, service, flowers and
the list went on. Nothing we did was right in the eyes of the vulture Queen, at
every decision her shrieking voice butted in telling us how wrong we were,
‘she’ did it ‘this’ way when she had to bury ‘her’ husband. But the Amazon was
not to be thwarted, we did what we felt was right for us and dad. Again the
vulture Queen was told in no uncertain terms to butt out and mind her own business.
Round Two, again to the Amazon.
Our family had moved to the big city only
two years before dad’s passing. Prior to that we had been living in a small
country community, the vulture Queen’s community, where all the other little
vultures also dwelled. The vulture Queen was quick to tell us how badly we
would now flounder in the big city and there was nothing else for it but to
come back to the rookery with her, she would take care of all of us. The
instant those words reverberated in my ears I felt the life force drain right
out of me in a gushing torrent. My childhood memories were peppered with
Christmas visits to her house. Just the drive there filled me with an
inexplicable dread; I was only little but I could remember that fear vividly.
There was no outward reason for it, but there was something deep within me that
abhorred going there and after all these years I was beginning to understand
why. Once again the Amazon rose and quelled any thoughts the vulture Queen was
having, there was no way on this earth I was heading back behind me and into
the rookery from hell to live out my days under her enforced suffocation.
There are factions within families, which
is where the politics come in. In my father’s family the head was the vulture
Queen. Just below her was the uncle who was the right wing vulture, always
available and ready to swoop in to peck whatever carcass clean. Next in line
was the fence sitting uncle; he ran between the factions and couldn’t make up
his own mind to save himself. Then there was my father and the only decent
Uncle I had. These two were the black sheep in the family and never quite up to
the lofty standards of the vulture Queen; they just didn’t cut the mustard in
her beady little eyes. The Amazon’s next dealings were with the venomous right
wing aspect of the factions. 35 years later and I can still see the scene
vividly; it burns behind my eyes with the ferocity of a fire storm.
There are some ‘tasks’ which fall to a
chosen few, and in my eyes it is not only a privilege but an obligation. The
last thing to organize was the small collective whom I considered right to
carry my father to his resting place. As an ordinary seventeen year old I would
really have had no idea, but with the Amazon coursing within, there was a very
definite set of people who this privilege fell to. As far as ‘we’ were
concerned, this was within the job description of brother!! I can still see the
defiant but vacant, “are you serious” look on the right wing vulture’s face
when I posed the question of being pall bearer, like this job was so totally
beneath him in every way. And I can still hear the fence sitter saying he would
only do it if the other vulture did it. Vulture one replied with a flat no without
any explanation, which meant vulture number two would go along. I have never
felt such open and bleedingly raw disgust in my entire life as I did when that
no emanated from that mouth, and to this day that no cuts at the core of my
being.
So there we all were, the Amazon and the two
vultures, standing not one room away from the place not only my father, but
their brother had passed. To say the moment was electric would be an
understatement. And in that particular moment the full brunt of the Amazon’s
wrath fired forth like a hot lava flow spilling uncontrollably from the depths
of Mt Vesuvius. They were told quick and hard exactly what was thought of them,
no holds barred, and where I hoped they would end up in their lifetime. They
probably wished the ground would open up and swallow them whole, and to be
perfectly honest, I wished the same thing myself. Forgiveness is not something that I have found in my heart even though I know I should,
not even when the only decent Uncle I had passed and vulture number two looked
deep into my eyes pleading with me for forgiveness for what he had so foolishly
been a part of. There were no words spoken but I could see into his soul and I
knew what he was asking of me. No, there was no forgiveness and there never
will be. They denied being part of a very sacred journey, their
brother’s final passage from this world to the next. They failed epically,
failed their brother, shattered the integrity of the family and left a
seventeen year old daughter alone and wondering where on this earth she should
turn next.

I had tried desperately to reach the one
Uncle I knew would honour this sacred vow, but he was the one I could not reach
no matter how hard I tried. This was possibly the saddest and most lonely moment
of my life, so near and yet so far. And so it was left to phone friends, not
only to phone friends and ask them to be a part of this sacred journey, but to
have to explain why my father’s own brothers wouldn’t do what was, in my eyes,
one of the most important jobs they would ever have to undertake in their lifetime. The
tears still stream down my face as I am writing this 35 years later; the
absolute betrayal I felt then and even now is beyond belief. But the Amazon
weaved her magic and the final pieces fell into place, all was arranged and we
could rest…….or so we thought!
The very night before my father’s funeral
the vulture Queen decided to pay us all a visit. The purpose of her visit was
to convey to my Valium soaked mother, what a horrid daughter she had brought
into the world, devil spawn as a matter of fact!!! The tirade was long, loud
and extremely boring, thank goodness mother was soaked to the eyeballs with her
favourite friend Valium or I might not have lived to see today. And what can I
say; the Amazon tripped the poisonous bitch up as she walked out the door (metaphorically speaking that is, not literally)!!
Life was good in that fleeting moment.
What has stuck in my craw was the timing of
the whole event, who in their right mind would front up the night before a
husband’s, father’s, brother’s funeral and launch into such a poisonous attack
on an innocent who was grieving as my mother was, I didn’t give a rats what she
did to me, I had the Amazon residing within and the vulture Queen’s poison
barbs fell off my frame like water off a duck’s back, but to do this to a woman
who had just lost her husband was absolutely despicable? Well, what can I say,
only the vulture Queen would go in for the kill in such a merciless fashion,
queen of all she surveyed, only this time she had met her match, the Amazon
Queen who had traveled from behind the veil to protect and guide her brother’s
daughter through the horrific ordeal she was left to manage!!
A new day dawned and with it the final
ritual, saying goodbye and ushering my father to his resting place. But
something else happened on this day as well. As quickly as the Amazon had
arrived, so she left, withdrawing from my human body to leave behind my
original self, the distraught young girl who had just lost her father. The
grief flooding my senses was horrendous, my body was wracked with pain and the
tears were an endless river. I was bleeding inside myself in a way I had never
before experienced.
At the funeral home the one decent Uncle I
had jumped into the car with us and was mortified I had not reached him, “I
would have done it, I would have.” To which I replied I knew, but I just
couldn’t reach you. He stayed with us offering shelter and comfort as only he
could. This was my Uncle, not those
other two strange beings who had crawled out from under some godforsaken rock
pretending to be a part of our family.
I don’t think I heard a single word of the
service, I was drowning in my own torrent of grief and when the casket was
lowered and my father was finally spirited away, the universe as I knew it
split asunder leaving behind a chasm so large that I have never been able to
traverse its depths. The emptiness left within has remained with me my entire
life, this wound has never healed.

But the strange forces were still weaving
their magic from behind the veil. At the time of his interment there was an
issue with the plaque we had chosen, it wasn’t going to arrive for quite a few
months, they would ring and let us know when it did. A couple of months down
the track I arose from my slumber and decided I wouldn’t be going to work that
day, there was something I needed to see. I showered and dressed in the clothes
I wore to the funeral and told mother we needed to go to the cemetery, dad’s
plaque was there. She insisted it wasn’t, they had not rung her, but looked at
the determination on my face and decided it was perhaps best to humour me.
Lucky she did for when we arrived and walked to the tree we had chosen to place
dad under, there was the plaque, all shiny and new, letting all in the world
know this was my father’s final resting place.
How did I know? The mysteries of the
universe had opened the gossamer veil and led me to the secret place where all
information is stored, information everyone has access to if we but open our
hearts and take up the gossamer wings spread before us. I went often to talk
with my father under his tree. It was comforting to commune and I felt his
presence close. Around two years later I sat beneath the tree ready to talk
with my father’s essence, but suddenly it was all very different. There was no
essence, I could no longer feel his presence, his spirit had at last been
freed. He had stayed long enough to tend and watch over us until he thought we
were ready to traverse the long road ahead of us without him. It felt like he
died all over again that day, the wound re-opened. As sad as I was, I was also
very grateful he had spent the extra time with us but realized deep within it
was time to let him go, his spirit needed to move through the other worlds to rest
and prepare for his next journey, whatever that may be.
Namaste’ my father, the wait has been long
but I hold in my heart the joy of our reunion on the other side.