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During Christmas break, my aunt and her flatmate and long-time friend (I've known Tricia my whole life, and is, pratically, like a real aunt for me) have come to visit for few days.
Most of the times, I've been more than happy, but... something happened that I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about. Also because I think dad noticed it, and know... well, let's say I got some info I wasn't supposed to have and I'm not exactly sure how to deal with them.
My grandmother died when I was barely six. I didn't see her so much, since we lived at over 100 km of distance, and when she died, since she had lost long before I was born a leg, I assumed it was cancer - bone cancer. don't ask me if I just assumed it on my own or I was told. I don't know.  This is what I've beleived, and what I,m basically, was been told, untill few years ago. and what dad keeps telling me everytime the topic come back.
While  Aunt was here, though, the topic of how aprents can be proud and stubborn, coming to decline tehri choldren's help, come out, and she said these words: "Yeah, I know.I remember when I told mum I found her this palce in rehab, but she shouted at me, cried she could stop to drink whenever she wanted because she wasn't a drunk."
She kind of stilled as she said so, porbbaly because she got that we weren't supposed to know that - Drew and me, at least.
Well, I shouldn't know, but, basically, I already knew that my grandmother had alcohol issues, even if both she and dad didn't know it, and still doesn't. mum told me, few years ago, during an outbrust, during a time she thought dad was cheating on her (come out the "other woman" was  the ex-wife of a friend, who kept begging him for help because she wanted to come back to her husband even if he was living with the former hooker he had been sleeping with for months. or so the gossip says) that she had gone to visit her during her last days, and she had been extremely embarassed because the doctor kept talking about alcohol-related health problems and she kept asking him why he was since she was suffering from cancer...
It's npt really that I need to know how to deal with this. I've kept this secret for years, even if soemtimes it's quite hard, and I feel kind of betrayed and cheated. It's just that... I've never talked about it before, you know? and there's this ground-rule, that we don't talk about it. But... I kind of needed, so here I am. well... was.
anyway, thank you for listening to whatever is reading it.
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have you ever knew soemthing you weren't supposed to, because somone, in a moment of rage, spilled it?
I do.
I lost my grand-mother (dad's mother) when I was around 5 and an half. At the time, I didn't think too much of it. I didn't know she was sick, but, c'mon, I was five.  Who talks about this sort of things with a five years old (unless, of course, we're talking about Valeria Richards, smartest kid alive of themarvel Universe...).
Besides, she missed one leg because I knew she had been through soemthing with her bones. I've never asked. People didn't talk about it with me. I assumed she got cancer when she was younger and then, years later, it come back and killed her. I didn't asked. People never told me about it. It's just how things are around here, all botlled up and unshared.
But, nine yeras ago, my grand-father (mom's father) got turbecolosis. Not the pulmonar type, mind you, but he still got it. We got tested in case we'd been the one pasing it to him, and, although not infective, it come out my father had it, dormient.
Nothing weird about it, right? Right. Only, I 0verheard a chat he was having about how both he, one of his younger sister and his mother got it from a sick uncle. And how my grand-mother was hit in the bones, losing her leg in the process.So, no cancer. But I still kept it quiet, bacause it's how things are around here, all bottled up and unshared. Untill...
Untill, couple of years ago, after an extremely  enraged argument with my father, mum, while trying to calm down while talking with me, let it slipt soemthing I'm quite I wasn't supposed to find out.
She did of cirrhosis of the liver, because she was an alcoholic, and because of the alcohol, she even robbed a family she was working for, ending up in jail. (My mother found out about it the day of her funeral; she didn't care, she still doesn't, because, she says, it's with my afther she fell in love with, and he is one of the most honest people she has ever met, there are a good cahnce, though, that her parents knew, hence the "hate", not so hidden, they've always felt for my him.)
And I'm walking on eggshells here, because, well, I can't say I know when I hear my father talking about her, and I still can't thin that the nice lady who gave me my first bike was such a person... or, better yet, so different from the one I met when I was a kid.
But that's beyond the point. The point is I'm almost 30, and here I am, in a famly where thingsa r eall bottled up and unshared.
 


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