I should probably preface what's going on now with acknowledging that I am historically not the awesomest with the thank you cards. Knowing that, my awesome aunt offered to help me do Thank You's at the wake. This being the first practical task that someone offered to help me to accomplish, I readily accepted and started working with my sister to lay the groundwork for this.

Friday my sister and I scheduled the time to go through all the cards and make a spreadsheet so we could figure out who's address we had already, who's address we could get (family & facebook contacts), and who's address would be tricky (people who came by, since no one left addresses in the guest book. This is probably my fault for not leaving my own address in the guest book alongside my name. Correctable. I trust that people know other people and talk.) and talked about a practical way to get all of this done. And as we're in the middle of this, having lovely dinner, the estranged uncle starts sending my sister nasty texts about where are we meeting Sunday, and since he's spoken to no one about this, my sister is, quite reasonably, like "What the fuck are you talking about?"

So he gets on this nasty kick about how we're not thoughtful enough to send out Thank You's. And my sister calls him and calls him out on it, and agrees to meet on Sunday. There were more than four people in the room with her at the time— because he decided to throw a fit while we were at lovely dinner— and the burning question everyone had at the end was this: "Is he on drugs?"

Don't know. Don't care. This is not appropriate.

So, yesterday, as I was going through the spreadsheet and determining who knew whom, he gets on this again, and starts going on about how we're terrible for not meeting him — because he insists that she said we were meeting yesterday. The funny thing about that is that we're pretty sure that wasn't a thing she said. Even if you take my sister's memory and my memory out of the equation, there were two other people who were in the room with us for both incidents— they say we didn't change the day from Sunday. He's such a fuckhead, you guys. Also, the people in my life are pretty sure this is the kind of behavior that comes from being on the hard drugs. I have no comment on that front, since it's been a while since I looked at the DSM. You can bet your ass I'll be curling up with the V later.

I have to go meet him in about an hour and I am pissed right the fuck off. He can send his own damn Thank Yous and explain why he's been estranged. Maybe.

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What I am definitely going to do is write a much heavier piece after I get home about my brother's childhood after I no longer lived with them and how that came to pass. I am going to stop speaking politely. Get ready to talk about homelessness and suicide, GT, cause I'm pissed and it's coming.