That's My Bix!

This is truly going to break your heart. Really, it is. This is some serious shit.

So I come back from Key West (no, not the break your heart bit) and I’m a tad upset, because I realize that as I was sucking down Conch Coolers on Sunset Pier, turning my nose up at Conch Fritters (still makes me want to go gack at the thought), it was the death anniversary of my wonderful dear great grandmother. Not only that, but she died on Saturday, January 13, 1996 and while I was sitting on the Sunset Pier, having a grand old time, it was Saturday, January 13, 2001. I’m not sure why this makes such a big deal, but for whatever reason, it does. And did thoughts or rememberance of my dear sweet grandmother come through my mind? Nope. This is why the extreme guilt.

Now, fast forward to back in Green Bay. My mom comes over and tells me that my Wimmer grandfather has passed away. Last week. And it was in the paper. But nary a Wimmer (and specifically not the Wimmer that you would like, ie. my father) called me to tell me. No, my grandmother has to see it in the paper and call my Mom, who thought I was still in Key West. So I look up the obituary online and it was in the Tuesday, Jan 16 issue. No, I didn’t do the math yet. I’m still stuck on the phrase “the funeral was attended to by immediate family and friends” because apparently direct blood relation is not only not “immediate” enough to attend the funeral, but also not “immediate” enough to even fucking call and inform. And then I get stuck at “six grandchildren”. Let’s see, Sharon has two kids, Gary’s kid Jason, that’s three, David has two kids, that makes five, and then I’m certain that they counted my evil step sister (ok, she’s not evil, she’s just massively addicted to cocaine and god knows what else), judging by the phrase “He spent his declining years helping his granddaughter fix her car”. Folks, he wasn’t fixing my car. That means I wasn’t even fucking COUNTED in the whole grandchild equation.

So I call my Aunt Sharon (who I’ve tried to find off and on for several years, but my father wouldn’t tell me her name, city, etc) and she fills me in on stuff. Apparently, she had asked my evil step monster if she (Sharon) could have a bullet from the military funeral as a rememberance and step monster says “No, I’m saving those for Mark” (my dad). So then Sharon asks “Can I have his glasses then to remember him by?” and StepMonster says “No, we’re giving them to the Lion’s Club”. And Sharon says “Well, have you got anything of his I can have to remember my father by?” and Step Monster says (I kid you not!) “Well, we have some of his old SHIT DIAPERS around, I suppose we could let you have one of them!” And she was serious. I told you she is evil.

Anyway, apparently, Sharon had tried to get ahold of me, but my dad didn’t whatsoever. Sharon also said that my stepsister (step monster’s “daughter”) always asked for help with her car because my grandfather would then give her money to get it fixed and she’d then snort the money he gave her.

So, a few things came from this. First, the chill coming from Big Lake Minnesota is almost palpable. Second, some interesting words came out of my mouth to Sharon and they were this “I tried for years and years to get in touch with him and I was always spurned away. Then he sent that letter and I didn’t respond. I decided that I had enough people who like me for who I am, who love me, so I don’t need to go looking for love from him.”. Which is like, wow, incredible. It felt really good to say it. And yes, I actually used the word “spurned” in conversation.

So what have I done? Well, a little vindictive thing. I published my wedding announcement in their local paper. Yes, I know it’s been a year and a half, but I figured since we are now using the local rags to communicate, so be it. Also, I plan on calling my grandmother Wimmer (had been divorced from grandfather Wimmer). I have not talked to my grandmother since I was 9 years old, people. Not that I haven’t tried. The best I could get out of my father (back when I actually talked to him) was that she had married a Jew, so her name changed. I also got to talk to Sharon, which was fabulous. I hope everything I told her gets back to him. Yes, I’m not truly healthy about this, but I think I’m doing fairly well.

Now, the true bummer that just bit me in the ass about this today. I realized that he died on Saturday, January 13, 2001. While I was sitting on the goddamn Sunset Pier in Key West, getting blitzed on rum. And my great grandfather died on July 13, 1985. (and both myself and my husband were born on the 13th too) I’m trying not to look for the Karma in this.