Ding Dong He's Dead

There was never a day, in my whole life, that I didn't wish you were dead. From my birth until now, I wished you dead. From before I even knew what 'dead' was, I wanted you gone. Gone from my space, gone from my view, gone from my ears, gone from my body.

She called and was so nonchalant about it. "He's passed on. He died at 5:26 this morning. All his belongings will be sent to your address. Where do you want his body sent?" For a minute I was certain this was a wrong number. She must have the wrong person, who was dead? "Excuse me? Who is this?" I was angry that someone would be so careless to pass this message on to someone without first identifying themselves. "Marin, this is Sheila. Sheila Tarn. I am calling about your brother, Gary. He's passed on." I couldn't hold back, I tried to stifle it but it came bounding out of my mouth like a rocket, this incredible, hysterical laugh. The good belly laugh kind. I dropped to my knees, let the phone hit the floor and had to hold my stomach as my sides started to hurt from the laughing. I had not laughed that good and hard in a long time and my body just released all the built up delirium.

After a couple minutes, Sheila came over the phone, "Marin? Are you done?"

"No, I am not done! What time can you be here? Can you bring some fireball? What about a box of wine? NO! Lets do the good stuff! What should I wear? Hey, can you get ahold of some weed, grass, maryjane...what are they calling it these days? I have never had that and now is as good as time as ever to give it a try!! YOU KNOW WHY?? DO YOU? I. AM. FREE!"

My mind was racing. I was free. Finally. Free from that looming evil that has hung over my head for my whole damn life! Free of the shame, the guilt, the regret, the fear. I was free for the first time in my goddamn life and now I was going to let myself live it.

"Marin, slow down. First things first, you are the only living relative. It is up to you to make the arrangements and settle his affairs."

"What affairs, what arrangements? Toss him in the river, throw his corpse in the ditch, I don't give 2 shits what happens to him!"

Although I would have loved to let the rodents consume his dead rotting corpse in some shithole in downtown Detroit, I had promised my mother that I would mind his affairs once she was gone. She never knew the extent of his abuse or she never would have asked. I couldn't bear to place that on her while she was dying. As much as I had wanted to tell, my shame and fear clutched it tight to my body and wouldn't let go. Now I had to face it once again while dealing with his 'affairs'.

He wrote letters. Lots of stupid fucking letters. He knew he would never get access to me again physically, but he knew he could still taunt me. Letters would come about every other month. Always from the same address with his stupid fucking initials instead of his name. G.B. Our mother must have told him once she passed that I would take on her roll. Sending him care packages, letters and snacks. I didn't send him a fucking thing, nor would I ever. But in every letter he asked when I was going to fulfill mom's wishes. When was I going to send him his favorite chips, his favorite sparkling water. I read each letter and tucked it away in the box in the basement. In one letter he told me how he would plan my funeral, what flowers he would pick out, what color casket he would place 'my beautiful body'. He even wrote out my fake obituary. The crazy fucker thought he would outlive me!

I knew in my head, he was sick, he was mentally ill and would never get outside the walls that he lived in. He would die there. And I always looked forward to this day. I waited for this call. I dreamed of this call.

I googled 'funeral homes and cremation in my area' and picked the first option to pop up. "Sheila, send his body to Carters Funeral Home in Lansburg. I will call them tomorrow and tell them to crisp his ass."

(Check out part 2 titled "Taking out the trash")