Pynchon

Lorraine's Aunt died last night at 11pm. Lorraine and Lorraine's Cousin were with her. More importantly Lorraine's Aunt knew that they were there.

Before now I have smiled craftily and I have winked knowingly, saying that I am not a nice person. There is precious little to smile or wink about, because I really am not a nice person. My reaction yesterday was despicable. No argument. There was no way that I could expect Lorraine to choose spending time with me on a Sunday over a family member who was grievously ill. Especially a family member who was the defacto Mother to her for a couple of years. Oh, yes. I didn't mention that little titbit, did I?

In her early teens Lorraine ran away from home. All sorts of reasons why. Maybe I will go into them at a later date. Lorraine went to her Aunt's. Her Aunt took her in. Lorraine never went home as the atmosphere was so bad. Instead Lorraine stayed with her Aunt until she was (I think) 20 or 21, which was when Lorraine got married.

When her Aunt was in distress and needed support, this was the person that Lorraine ran to. This was the situation that I had a childish temper tantrum over, when I should have held my tongue and been supportive. Lorraine knows me to well. Maybe this is why she has kept her distance from me, for the past couple of years.

Lorraine was right and I was wrong. I feel thoroughly ashamed. Lorraine will be away this week as there is a sorting out to do.

I just want her to come home so that I can love her.

Labels: Death, Family, Lorraine