Hubby Je’s mother, as some who have been kind enough to read my past ramblings on 43 things, committed suicide last Good Friday with a bullet through the ol’ brainstem. She did her hair, makeup, and bought a new outfit to meet Jesus.
We went to see his father after her death, and he showed us a copy of the suicide note (it never even mentioned her only child, my dear hubby, just her Great Pain and Jesus), then bragged about how he bought her the gun, and they almost did a double suicide. He actually just kept telling us about the caliber and price of the gun like it was the most normal thing in the world, such a good killing gun (and I have a gun for protection, bought when I was single and stalked, but bullet/brainstem thoughts do not pass my mind).
So he keeps telling this tale, and how sad he is, but never, in his crazy-ass sociopathic way bothers to think/ask about how this is affecting their son. Never. Not once. Bastard
So we help him around that sick house, organizing things for his move out, with the bullet hole in the bathroom ceiling, and his myriad bottles of morphine and oxys in the other bathroom. He’s preaching Jesus the whole time, pissed at his pagan son and daughter-in-law cause we’re not Christian (and a mightly fine ad you are too, dude). And I am so happy we never visited MIL for a long time, cause she was angry too at the pagan part of the family, suicidal, with a loaded .356 Magnum. Murder-suicide, see the headlines. Lovely. WWJD, pull the trigger? Kill the witches once more? Hmmm.
So anyway, he took off in his van, to travel the country, and commit suicide himself, he claimed. Like all these conversations are the most normal thing in the world. Hint dude: down the morphine. He just sent us an email about how he spent three days in another city looking for a shotgun to “blow off the top of his head”. (In his previous discourse, he stated that a shotgun is the suicide weapon of choice.) But, alas, he couldn’t find one. Then God came and chit-chatted with him and told him to visit his religious wacko fundamentalist friends in Texas and to celebrate his New Holy Day. What day is that? The first birthday of Je’s mother is the New Holy Day. So he sent us an invitation to join him and the wacko fundamentalist friends, because birthdays are so important. Except…
Oh, Je’s birthday just went by without a call, email, etc. It’s just the birthdays where dead people are important, not his living son who has been through hell. It’s all about him, this self-centered POS. I am so amazed that Je is so kind, thoughtful, well-balanced coming from parents like his.
So I am so pissed because Je was finally lifting from his depression over this. It’s getting towards Samhain, we have ashes and things to put in the fire, and the veils will be thin. Then the stupid email, and another threat of suicide.
So we can’t commit him, it’s not enough to hold him (and this is who he is, there is no healthy person to medicate into reality). I’ve Baker Acted people before, so I know. He would just get out in a few days. And he’s, IMHO, more sociopathic than crazy (he’s been diagnosed sociopathic). And he’s got guns and weirdness and anger and not one shred of compassion towards his pagan son and me.
That’s a freakin’ scary combo.
I want this man out of our lives. I am so over his selfishness, and the threat of violence. We changed our phone numbers, moved to another unit in the building, and hopefully will move again as soon as Je gets a better job or I graduate from school (tho Je says he once hired a PI to find him).
So that’s It. Damn.
