Follow my wavy lines back to 2001
It's a few days before my 16th birthday and my dad has kindly overshadowed the big event by dropping dead. Attention seeking to the last, we later found out; the daft bastard downed a couple too many aspirin and half a bottle of vodka in an attempt to make my mum feel guilty for starting divorce preceedings after 16 years of increasing violence and misery. Instead of hospitalising him and tormenting her as he'd intended, he had a heart attack in his sleep (c'est la vie..or mort, possibly?)

I was on a school residential at the time (a story in itself) and so after having had the news broken to me by my IT teacher and speaking to my hysterical mother on the phone, it was decided that I would stay at the summer camp to avoid being involved in all the various gruesome bits of funeral organising. A very strange week passes, and a bemused young berk heads homewards to face the music. The funeral came and went, during which my elderly gran let out such a long, rumbling cheek-trembler of a fart that it sounded like the first few bars of 'The Last Post', a fitting tribute to her odious guff of a son and which had me laughing so hard I had to pretend to be sobbing. But that isn't the guilty laugh to which this post refers.

A week or so later and my mum and I went to pay our dues to my father's drinking buddies, a sorry bunch of bar-proppers, drunkards and reprobates, most of whom had been asked not to attend the funeral for fear of upsetting my nan. I knew most of them quite well, having spent great quantities of my formative years in my parents local. Naturally, they were all hammered and loudly bemoaning my father's passing. This went on for some hours. Afternoon stretched in to tea-time, and tea-time in to the evening. At first I itched to go and play pool, something, anything to stop the day dragging (I was peremptorily called back and told not to be disrespectful) but eventually they were too drunk to notice I was gone. I came back after a while - there's only so many games of pool you can play on your own - and decided to beg the housekeys off my mother, pleading fatigue and grief. One of them, espying my return, patted my hand and said "'E was a good man, your dad. We all miss him. 'S a shame he can't be here tonight'.

Neglecting in my outrage to mention that they wouldn't be here tonight reminiscing if my dad had been there, what with them having his send off, and secure in the knowledge that my dad was a cunt of the first order, I snapped, deadpan: 'Well, his ashes are in the car boot. I can fetch him in if you want, but I doubt it'll make you feel better'.

Immediate hush: the entire pub fell silent. Our table was a picture postcard of a dozen or so identical faces gaping, eyes popping, jaws dropped, like a multitude of horrified bowling balls.

'Oh fuck', thought I. 'I've upset a pubful of drunken nutters and my dad's drinking mates are going to lynch me. Nobody's wished me a bloody happy birthday, either'. I couldn't help it. I laughed. I howled until I thought I'd puke. I laughed so fucking hard I honestly feared I'd rupture something. Slowly, other people started to giggle until pretty much all the regulars were roaring as hard as I was. Then I fucked off home and I haven't been back since.

I felt guilty as hell about it then but I certainly don't now - that laugh was 16 miserable years in the making. Cheers dad.
(berk, Mon 26 Jul 2010, 11:28, 4 replies)

Good on you.
*click*
( Colonel Boris "...a desperate Buzzfeed imitation...", Mon 26 Jul 2010, 12:22, closed)

Yeah...
Sorry you had it so rough. Brings me back to reality when I start moaning about my folks...
(Happybara The jungle came alive and took him, Mon 26 Jul 2010, 14:18, closed)

Shit happens
and certainly none of it was your fault :) 'counting your blessings' has always irritated me as a phrase but yeah, sometimes when I'm a bit miserable I look back and think 'well, thank fuck I don't have to deal with that any more, at least'.
(berk, Mon 26 Jul 2010, 15:01, closed)

Glad you did
My partner went through a very similar thing, but with his grandfather (=family put through hell for 50+ years).
Not my place to post the story here though.
All desperately sad though, so well done you.
( Tab Hunter Make this useless process end and so, begin again, Mon 26 Jul 2010, 15:36, closed)