Trust & Family

Sam & Dean Winchester

The main thing I’ve loved about Supernatural is the relationship between Sam & Dean. Dean is hot as hell, and pre-Hell he had some awesome zingers. I’m tempted to rewatch SPN and write down all his best lines. I keep watching because I have such a longing for the relationship that Sam & Dean have, basically it is a love story that I have never experienced. A story of love between brothers but ultimately a love between siblings.

I have a sibling, only one, his name is Rob. He’s two years older than I am. I dunno how he feels about me but I have no love for him. We’re in our upper thirties now (Dean is my brother’s age and Sam is two years younger than me I think, and I wish I was their in-between sister) and you’d think that we’d at least have a better relationship, having matured and seeing how you do or do not treat someone. I feel like I’ve done nothing to make my brother treat me the way he does. Maybe I have and I don’t remember it. In my memory my brother was our mother’s favorite. I’ll recall a memory here:

When we lived in Fredericktown I was in the 4-7th grade. In 4th or 5th grade my mother worked nights and got home around 9-ish. We had to be up at 6:30 and on the bus (Rob walked to his school it was across the street) by 7:30. Mom would get mad at me for not waking my brother up in the morning to go to school. Mad as in she would punish me because my brother wouldn’t get up on his own. The problem was Rob wouldn’t listen to me, he wouldn’t get up. (I dumped water on his head one morning and he beat me up.) I had this choice of what was worse, spankings or grounding from my mom when I got home from school or getting beat up for trying to wake my brother in the morning. I often chose the former because if I was lucky I’d get grounded. Now I’ve said that to say this: One day my mother took me out to lunch. We went to a local diner and when we got there, everyone knew her by name, and she was on first name basis with the owner. The owner came over and said, “Where’s Rob?” I dunno why he wasn’t with us. “Who’s this?” The owner asked.
“My daughter, Becky,” she introduced me to the owner.
“I didn’t know you had a daughter.” It was explained to me that all those mornings that Rob wouldn’t get up in the morning, my mother would take him to breakfast at this diner before she took him to school.

I once tried to express my feelings of Rob being the favorite to my Grandmother and she said that I was her favorite. She tells this story about how Rob asked Mom to make him Ham N Beans and she poured water into a pot, added the beans, thrust the ham bone in it and said, “Here’s your Ham N Beans!” The weren’t cooked.

My dad says that my mother played Rob and I against each other. This I can believe but let I’ve never stolen a dryer from my brother. He has stolen one from me. I had an extra washer and dryer being stored at our Aunt Debbie’s. His dryer broke and he asked if I had one. I said I did, I offered to sell it to him for $50 I think. He said it wasn’t worth it. Then Dad called me and then Grandma called me and Rob’s girlfriend called me. I stuck to my guns. If he wanted this dryer he needed to cough up $50 for it. The next day I got a phone call from Aunt Debbie who said very sternly that I should’ve let her know that Rob was coming to get the dryer. I informed her he wasn’t. She then told me that Rob had showed up, said I gave him the dryer, and he took it. I never saw my $50. A friend of his needed a washer and he asked if I still had the washer and I flat out lied, nope. This happened in early 2000’s.

The statement I’m trying to make is why does my brother treat me like this? Why would he do this to me? We’re siblings, he’s supposed to be there for me. We’re supposed to be close and love each other. Why can’t he be my Dean?

Let’s talk about older stuff. When we were kids my mother gave us each a cookie and a half. Rob ate his whole cookie but I still had my cookie and half. He offered to trade me my whole cookie for his half. I was small. He convinced me I would still have the same amount.

I needed a new car. So Rob convinced me to buy this 1978 Ford Bronco that he wanted. I drove it for a couple months and the belts broke. My dad fixed it, and then again they broke, but forcing the truck home ruptured the transmission lines. So my dad said why don’t I drive his Mercury Cougar while he drove the Bronco because he could work on it at his work. I agreed. Couple weeks later he says he traded the Bronco to Rob for the “Red Truck” (it was an old truck with a utility bed). I drove that Cougar for over a year, until my wedding day. My dad asked to borrow it, his date to my reception couldn’t ride in the dirty “Red Truck.” I never saw the Cougar again.

As you can tell I have multiple reasons for not being very trusting in family. My brother asked to borrow $1000. Said he needed it for a downpayment for his girlfriend to have her own salon. This was a Friday and he said he could pay me back on Monday. I agreed. (This was 2010.) I waited 2 weeks called him up 3 Mondays later and asked for that $1000. He hung up on me, wouldn’t talk to me. Finally said he never borrowed money from me. Our dad was the one who convinced me to give him the money.

So now let’s talk about the present. I gave my husband permission to buy a 2000 Ford Explorer with 175,000 miles on it for $650. We took it yesterday to be state safety inspected. It drove there, drove into the garage, but they couldn’t get it started. Said it wasn’t getting any fuel pressure. Said I needed a new fuel pump. This is Telle Tire, a shop I’ve talked about in an older post. My Blazer So the combination of my dad and brother have offered to replace the fuel pump, ball joint and tire (so it will run and pass inspection). I’m so worried that my brother will lie to me that the engine blew or something so he can get a free working Explorer with low miles. This anxiety is making me sick to my stomach and I’ve been on the edge of tears all day.

The relationship between my brother and I should’ve never come to the point that I expect him to try to cheat me or lie to me.


Funerals then… Now… And Movie Versions

I just got a phone call from a collection agency looking for my Grandmother, Freda Dry. I had to sadly inform them that she had passed away on the 5th and we had just had her funeral yesterday. Sorry collection agency people, her debts die with her.

I always envision funerals to be like the ones in the movies, a ton of people show up, everyone is in black, an overwhelming amount of flowers sent by those trying to express their sympathy or by those who can’t make the funeral, and then there is an after-the-funeral-party at someone’s house, usually the widow. I’ve been to a few funerals that were similar to that, a bunch of people show up, a lot of flowers and of course the Psalm 23:4 “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” 

Can’t forget: “In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our brother N.; and we commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless him and keep him, the Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious unto him, the Lord lift up his countenance upon him and give him peace. Amen.

Both of my grandparent’s funerals were disappointing. I partially blame my brother for botching my grandfather’s funeral and then again I feel I made the same mistakes. The thing is I took for granted the amount of preplanning my grandparents did. They made their funeral arrangements in 1987, yes, almost 30 years ago, and paid for them. The headstone was bought, carved (just needed death dates) and placed on their plot, just waiting for them for 30 years. (Nothing has patience like a tombstone.)

When my grandfather died in 2010, he was placed in the ground before the obituaries were published. I was expecting half the county of Bollinger to be there and only about a dozen people were. I’m just glad that Grandpa was buried with full military honors. Grandpa served in the Navy in WW2, in the Seabees.

So this time, when Grandma died, I handled the funeral or rather bumbled my way through it. The Funeral Director was asking me all sorts of questions, clothes grandma would be wearing, music played, who did I want to do the service, did I want Grandma embalmed? I honestly thought that all this would’ve been part of the preplanning (except the clothes). I was also told that there was a fee for reopening the grave which was not included in the pre-plan because those rates vary. I tried to google how much to reopen a grave and when I came across this website: Why Does it Cost So Much to Open a Grave Today? I’m pretty sure I threw up a little in my mouth. I had no idea how much it would cost to reopen the grave, but I sure as Hell don’t have $500 – $1200. I had to borrow gas money to drive the four hours round trip (twice). The funeral home, blessedly absorbed the cost of the grave reopening but still handed me a bill for $85 to finish carving Grandma’s headstone with her death date. When I get paid I’ll pay it.

So back to the original topic, about 30 people showed up for Grandma’s funeral (and one woman who signed the register for 6 families who were never there). The notices came out in the papers before she was buried, and there wasn’t an after-party (no money and no place to have one, my dad paid for my family, my brother and his girlfriend to eat at Ponderosa in Perryville.) Also only my family was in black. I mean, I wore black, my husband wore black, my daughter wore black, and my son wore black slacks and a purple dress shirt. My brother, Dad, his girlfriend and cousin Tony all showed up in blue jeans. The woman who signed the register for the 6 families also was in jeans and a halter top and flipflops.

I know I should blame the media for how a funeral should look and how people should dress but I googled ‘What to wear to a funeral.” And quoted from: Everplans: What to Wear to a Funeral or Memorial Service “Women should avoid wearing overly casual, festive, or revealing clothing. Appropriate outfits for women to wear to a funeral include a skirt suit or pantsuit; a skirt of appropriate length (not a mini skirt) or pants (not jeans) and a top with sleeves, a blouse, or a sweater; flats or pumps (not sneakers).”

For men: Art of Manliness: Funeral Etiquette Basics “When we think of funerals, the first image that often leaps to mind is that of people dressed in black. While black is still the traditional color for funerals, this standard has loosened up in modern times to include other dark, conservative clothing. Still, the best way to go is donning a black suit, white shirt, conservative tie, and well-shined black shoes.”

Only 3 sent flowers (the nursing home sent me a plant to my house) but 3 sent flowers to the service.

Anyway I was uber stressed over the funeral and now that it is over I still have to go to the nursing home and pick up my grandmother’s things, but I dunno what to do with them.