When my paternal grandmother died in 2004, my dad decided that he would have pretty much nothing to do with the rest of his family. His parents, as well as his uncle and younger brother were all dead, all within this decade, and he wanted to sever all ties. That's a difficult thing to do when you have five other siblings, all living in relative proximity, but, being a humbug, he managed it quite well. That is, he managed it until his baby brother had a falling-out with his wife, and we took him in to live with us. And then his wife moved in with us, and we co-habitated with these rather colorful characters for about a year and a half until my mom had finally had enough and threw them out. They refused to find jobs, smoked in our house, and were generally lazy bums. However, I don't like to speak ill of the dead, so that is where this particular thread ends.
After my mom gave them the boot, which was in 2006, my dad, again, refused to speak to his siblings. On occasion they would call, and he would, on occasion, talk to them, but for the most part, we lived in our own, Dad's-side-of-the-family-free world.
Yesterday, my aunt, who is neighbors with my dad's baby brother, called to tell us that his wife had died. Strangely, it didn't take much effort to talk Dad into trekking the 100-odd miles out to his house to lend a shoulder to cry on and a pot roast to eat. After all, we're family. We're not so awful that we would refuse to be supportive when someone has died. I've though about this post continually throughout the day, because writing is one of very few things that takes my mind off the rest of the world. I love to write. And, sometimes, I love to share, depending on what it is that I'm sharing.
So, that being said, I'm going to conclude this particular entry by dedicating it to those of my family members that have passed on.
Patrick D. Williams, Sr.
Loretta B. "Jean" Williams
Jonathan R. "Johnny" Williams
Dawn M. Williams [nee Mezydlo]
You are all sorely missed.