Wednesday, August 27, 2014

I have a thinkin' problem

For some reason, probably because I've been going to church more often and doing all the good stuff that goes with it, I've been doing some soul searching. In the course of all this reflection I've realized there's one thing I really, really, have a big problem with - I can't forgive Pam. It makes me literally sick to my stomach to even think of her. I absolutely despise her. I know we need to forgive in order to be more Christ-like, but on this subject, I just can't. Not only that, I cannot even imagine wanting to forgive her. That's really bad.

I'm not saying my dad was perfect, far from it. I know my dad could be an absolute ass without even trying. I still get angry with him when I think of how he basically walked away from his responsibility with his own mother when she was in the nursing home, how he never could stand up for his daughters when we needed him the most, and for being so irresponsible about money and business. He could be rather selfish, too, but still, he loved us and he was my flesh and blood. That goes a long way toward being able to forgive. But that stupid cow he married - I couldn't stand her from day one. She was a first-class weirdo from the word go, and she only got worse. Dad was nothing to her but a meal ticket and a way to get more money. Since dad was a retired police officer, unfortunately, the police officer's credit union was only too glad to give him loans, and loans, and more loans. Scary as it is to think about, he actually had better credit than she did! Without dad's VA loan, she never would have gotten her brand new house in Phoenix. Complete with pool and hot tub. They had the house built for them for Pete's sake, I don't think the ink was dry on the closing papers before she started having dad change everything, from Corian counters to tile floors, removing the enclosed staircase and up ending it up, then new cars (leased at first, then financed through the good old credit union.

I really don't care about all that, it's not like any of us thought we'd be getting an inheritance!  But she slowly started to cut do off from us. Her siblings spent most summers keeping the spare bedrooms in use. The grandkids went down for a week in the summer, if they were lucky. I had to laugh when Meg pulled into the garage, hit a refrigerator, and pushed it through the wall of the bathroom on the main floor! WTG, Meg! Steve and I only went once, and I went one other time by myself. I couldn't stand being in her house. We weren't even invited to the wedding for God's sake! Which just happened to coincide with the kid's week to visit, so they had to come home early. If dad and Pam came back here, they stayed with HER aunt, and we'd be lucky to see dad once or twice while they were here. Christmas visits were for spending time with her family. They couldn't have Christmas dinner with us! Oh no, Josie wanted Pammy and Art with them!  Let's just forget that Art has 3 married daughters and 7 grandchildren to see. When they moved back here, she didn't want to work. Nevermind that dad was 75 and having a lot of problems with peripheral nerve damage in his legs from diabetes that she helped make worse. Supposedly, she was a dietician, but couldn't figure out dad couldn't eat a giant bowl of popcorn every night before bed AND keep his blood sugar under control.

I guess the frosting on the cake was when dad wasn't to be left alone after his accident with the semi, yet she went to work anyway and left him home alone - nothing in the house to eat or drink. She worked at Wal-Mart for Pete's sake was it beyond her to buy groceries? Apparently it was, because she never did. And let's not forget the time dad fell in front of her colleagues at a Wal-Mart Christmas party. He couldn't get up without help, but instead of helping, she just laughed at him. I wish I would have been there, she would've been cropping teeth for a week. When dad's health deteriorated, she ran off like a scalded dog. Her story was that WE pushed her out. In reality, we offered to help her, since dad had been diagnosed with frontal lobe dementia and she left, saying she couldn't handle it. Of course she kept calling him and telling him she wanted to come home, but we wouldn't let her. Riiiight. There goes increasingly demented Pammy! Make way for the princess!  After Mel, me, Bob and Carol and Steve worked our assessment off to get their stuff sold, so dad could have extra money in his account at the nursing home, she called him and managed to get money out of him. FOR THE LAST TIME! Last I heard she was having to work two jobs to pay off the bills. Dad attempted suicide 3 times because of that whore. The first time, after he took the overdose he called her and told her. She didn't care enough to let anyone know what he had done. Instead, he ended up in a coma for 4 days that we thought was going to kill him. She never came to see him or even sent a card. Then she had the gall to complain that she has to work 2 jobs now to pay off some of the bills! Ñot counting the house, they have over 100k in credit card debt. Poor baby. I hope she has to work 2 or 3 jobs to pay the debts off. Miserable excuse for a human being.i hope she rots in hell.

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