A few weeks ago I got a call from my mom Anita, telling me she has good news. I usually brace myself because her good news usually means something horrible for me. As usual when it comes to Anita pissing me off, she did not disappoint.
My father Alan is not improving as many expected. After two strokes, one can hear from his voice that he’s not the same. He can’t handle being asked a complex question, or two questions in one. For example, if I say something like “Hey Dad. How’s it going? How was your physical training and what did you eat,” he would answer the first question about the physical training but not the second. With his condition as such, a bunch of his closest friends and his niece (who flew out to see him from Nigeria) gathered together to talk to him. They asked him who he wants to be in charge of his care and finances from now on. They didn’t want a repeat of the chaos that erupted when he had the second stroke and people started fighting over dumb shit. So they asked him. And what name did he say? Ahkenaten fucking Kor.
My mom seemed to think this was good news, as it keeps his care with his immediate family instead of the church people whom she doesn’t trust. For me, when I heard this bullshit, my heart sank. It was as if… I don’t have an analogy for this one. First I have to deal with the burden of Anita’s piece of shit Property X. And now I have to deal with the care of Alan. On top of the two jobs. On top of the stock trade education. On top of the real estate investing and property management. I was just miserable, as I’m now forced to deal with all the petty bullshit between family members whom I’ve never met, as they’ll most assuredly crowd around him like vultures waiting for him to die. One might say this is me jumping to conclusions but, if our extended family is all good and trustworthy, why would he choose me instead of them? Why doesn’t he see that side of the family much? Why is it that all of his real estate dealings in Nigeria are between himself and his lawyer instead of family? Yeah. Exactly. And it didn’t take long for the first issue to arise.
That very weekend, Alan’s niece called me while I was at the shipping depot. She said that Alan’s second ex-wife came to see him and was causing trouble. She said that I have to know these things and stay close to him so I can determine what to do and how to handle the situation. When I got off the phone I ranted like a monster for a few minutes. I couldn’t believe the burden that was now being thrown on me. I’m the referee in a battle of people who should know better. And I shouldn’t even be handling this. As the eldest sibling and the one with the least amount of responsibility, my sister Ana should be the one taking care of Alan. My brother Alex can’t do it since he and his wife live across the country. Ana lives very close to him, is always behind on rent, and needs a stable place to stay without the threat of eviction on her. But she continues with that whole “I have to live my life” bullshit that makes no sense if her life is in the shitter. Up until now I’ve had no problem with Ana’s self-destructive ways. My rule is that people can do whatever they want as long as their actions don’t affect me. You see that’s my problem with her. It’s not that she’s a mess or that she can’t take care of herself without asking for help every 5 seconds. My problem with her is that her responsibility has now become mine. And they know that my sense of familial duty is too strong to refuse Alan’s wishes.
You know, I moved. I got out of this. I set myself up in Smalltown and didn't ask for anything from anyone. All I wanted was to do things on my own and let everyone else do the same. I assumed, considering that everyone is older than me, that they would be able to care for themselves with the same responsibility that they preached to me when I was a kid. But these people just can't stop. They stay with their bullshit, and I'm starting to think that they actually like it. I think if I gave them the perfect environment and perfect situation, they'd find a way to screw it up. Alan should have had this stuff all taken care of years ago. Instead of trying to bribe me with his lofty bank accounts in 2007, he should have been preparing for stuff like this. I'm 34 and I've had a will since I was 17. And I update it every couple of years. So what's his excuse? Ugh!
Right now I’d cut Ana out of my life completely, but I want to wait until Alan is safely in Nigeria. Once his care is set up and things are good, Ana will get a call from me. After that call, I’ll no longer have a blood sister. I can’t do it now and risk further family drama, particularly with Alan in his condition. So I’ll fake it up on Thanksgiving. I’ll fake it up on Christmas. I’ll fake as much as I have to in order to get Alan safe and secure. I hate the fact that I have to do this, but I can only grin and bear it. Ugh… if this is what I came back for, then I definitely made a mistake.
P.S.: In case one might think differently, the My Fault philosophy applies here. I could simply say no. If I could find a way to change my views on familial duty, I can refuse it without a problem. But right now I can’t. Ugh. Fucking Ana, man. Live life with no responsibilities and someone to clean up after your mess all the time. Her life is certainly a lot easier than mine. To use a Smalltown quote: “it must be nice.”
My father Alan is not improving as many expected. After two strokes, one can hear from his voice that he’s not the same. He can’t handle being asked a complex question, or two questions in one. For example, if I say something like “Hey Dad. How’s it going? How was your physical training and what did you eat,” he would answer the first question about the physical training but not the second. With his condition as such, a bunch of his closest friends and his niece (who flew out to see him from Nigeria) gathered together to talk to him. They asked him who he wants to be in charge of his care and finances from now on. They didn’t want a repeat of the chaos that erupted when he had the second stroke and people started fighting over dumb shit. So they asked him. And what name did he say? Ahkenaten fucking Kor.
My mom seemed to think this was good news, as it keeps his care with his immediate family instead of the church people whom she doesn’t trust. For me, when I heard this bullshit, my heart sank. It was as if… I don’t have an analogy for this one. First I have to deal with the burden of Anita’s piece of shit Property X. And now I have to deal with the care of Alan. On top of the two jobs. On top of the stock trade education. On top of the real estate investing and property management. I was just miserable, as I’m now forced to deal with all the petty bullshit between family members whom I’ve never met, as they’ll most assuredly crowd around him like vultures waiting for him to die. One might say this is me jumping to conclusions but, if our extended family is all good and trustworthy, why would he choose me instead of them? Why doesn’t he see that side of the family much? Why is it that all of his real estate dealings in Nigeria are between himself and his lawyer instead of family? Yeah. Exactly. And it didn’t take long for the first issue to arise.
That very weekend, Alan’s niece called me while I was at the shipping depot. She said that Alan’s second ex-wife came to see him and was causing trouble. She said that I have to know these things and stay close to him so I can determine what to do and how to handle the situation. When I got off the phone I ranted like a monster for a few minutes. I couldn’t believe the burden that was now being thrown on me. I’m the referee in a battle of people who should know better. And I shouldn’t even be handling this. As the eldest sibling and the one with the least amount of responsibility, my sister Ana should be the one taking care of Alan. My brother Alex can’t do it since he and his wife live across the country. Ana lives very close to him, is always behind on rent, and needs a stable place to stay without the threat of eviction on her. But she continues with that whole “I have to live my life” bullshit that makes no sense if her life is in the shitter. Up until now I’ve had no problem with Ana’s self-destructive ways. My rule is that people can do whatever they want as long as their actions don’t affect me. You see that’s my problem with her. It’s not that she’s a mess or that she can’t take care of herself without asking for help every 5 seconds. My problem with her is that her responsibility has now become mine. And they know that my sense of familial duty is too strong to refuse Alan’s wishes.
You know, I moved. I got out of this. I set myself up in Smalltown and didn't ask for anything from anyone. All I wanted was to do things on my own and let everyone else do the same. I assumed, considering that everyone is older than me, that they would be able to care for themselves with the same responsibility that they preached to me when I was a kid. But these people just can't stop. They stay with their bullshit, and I'm starting to think that they actually like it. I think if I gave them the perfect environment and perfect situation, they'd find a way to screw it up. Alan should have had this stuff all taken care of years ago. Instead of trying to bribe me with his lofty bank accounts in 2007, he should have been preparing for stuff like this. I'm 34 and I've had a will since I was 17. And I update it every couple of years. So what's his excuse? Ugh!
Right now I’d cut Ana out of my life completely, but I want to wait until Alan is safely in Nigeria. Once his care is set up and things are good, Ana will get a call from me. After that call, I’ll no longer have a blood sister. I can’t do it now and risk further family drama, particularly with Alan in his condition. So I’ll fake it up on Thanksgiving. I’ll fake it up on Christmas. I’ll fake as much as I have to in order to get Alan safe and secure. I hate the fact that I have to do this, but I can only grin and bear it. Ugh… if this is what I came back for, then I definitely made a mistake.
P.S.: In case one might think differently, the My Fault philosophy applies here. I could simply say no. If I could find a way to change my views on familial duty, I can refuse it without a problem. But right now I can’t. Ugh. Fucking Ana, man. Live life with no responsibilities and someone to clean up after your mess all the time. Her life is certainly a lot easier than mine. To use a Smalltown quote: “it must be nice.”
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