I went to my grandma's funeral today. I was a paul bearer. It sucked. I cried a lot.





I saw my dad today. He had long, white, shoulder length hair. We didn't really speak. He didn't cry. He didn't acknowledge my daugters or my wife.





My full brother Scott, my mom (actual mother) and her 13 year old daughter came with me and my family (wife and three kids).





In addition, my dad's second wife Gretchen and their son Tom came, my dad's most recent wife (they're divorced now) Debbie and her daughter and mom came, and my dad brought a female date. Debbie let us know that my dad had told her that Libby, the woman my dad was with before Debbie, and who was around for about 8-years, had died; she had contracted Hep-C about 18-years ago as a nurse, and now she was dead. I was kind of sad.





So to keep track, there were three ex-wives of my dad there plus a new one on deck.





After the funeral service, he vanished. Good riddence to bad baggage (I've watched Mary Poppins 900+ times).





This was it, I now have no reason whatsoever to speak to anyone on that side of the family ever again.

Wanna see the bruise on my arm?

.