I know there is a thread already about Ns hating their parents, and this is kind of related to that, but slightly different.
I was wondering what other people have found happens to the hated parent(s) once they are dead? Has anyone else seen the antipathy denied and turned into a kind of veneration of saints?
From my own family, the most N person is my mum, and her parents are spoken of very, very rarely, but when they are it is with reverence, as if they were the most sainted people ever. Well, I was small when they died, but not that small.
My maternal grandmother was an object of terror to myself and my brother when we were small. The nearest the family gets to admitting this is whispered comments that she could freeze water at 50 paces by looking at it. Which is true. I don't remember ever hearing her laugh, although I do have one fond memory, that every night she would say; 'goodnight, God bless' to us, which was amazing as our parents never said anything like that. I suspect that my mum learned her N behaviours from her mum, but I may be wrong. Who can say after all this time?
My grandfather we loved to bits, but he fell out with every adult around him in his latter years, including the local vicar. We were too young to be on the receiving end of his anger, but he was bigotted, racist, misogynist; you name it. I saw the same thing in an uncle who was the image of my grandad, and, like him, besotted with his grandchildren.
Once her parents died, my Nmum latched onto their loss, and created for herself the image of the grieving daughter. This is a role that she has played exclusively ever since, and one which overshadows every other role. She cannot be my mum, because she is too busy being the griefstricken daughter of beloved parents. She reprises this role at every funeral she attends, invariably collapsing in a heap at some stage to be helped away, sobbing. Whenever either of her parents is mentioned, she gets a glazed look in her eyes, and sighs deeply, as if stirred by deep emotion.
Again, I feel heartless. But when her beloved younger brother died, I visited her, to find these same behaviours happening, only to be interrupted when she saw through the window a neighbour passing down the road. She stopped her sighing to rush outside and tell the neighbour about her loss, and collapse all over again, for their benefit.
I have seen grief, true grief. It does not look for a passing audience to impress. It sits in shock, unable to comprehend, unable to move or think or feel.
Ngrief is not about grieving for the person who has gone, or for those left behind. It is all about the N and their drama. Not content with sucking the blood of the living, the N sucks that of the dead as well, for years and years and years.
Yuck!! What a nasty image. Sorry!!!!!!! Anyway, has anyone else seen this kind of thing??
