One thing, two totally different ways

I've had two deaths in my family within the last month. My aunt died in the last week of August, and my great uncle died last night. Her death filled me with so much sadness that my heart broke for her and her children. The pieces still don't fit together quite right. But my uncle, I feel no drop of sadness for his passing. Instead, I am sad for myself. I am sad that he was the subject of my last post. I am sad that he drastically changed my life. And I'm sad that I feel nothing left for a man who helped to raise me. My aunt was a good, sweet woman who did not deserve the brain cancer card that was dealt to her. She did not deserve to suffer for 18 while the people who loved her most watched her fade away from the woman she once was. And she did not deserve to only know her granddaughter for 3 years. My uncle deserved everything that he got. He burned family bridges and destroyed family dynamics. He fought with my parents. He let me suffer and the hands of my cousin. I hadn't spoken to him in almost 10 years. Grief is a funny thing. It can break people. It can make people stronger. It can make you cry. But it's the scariest when it doesn't make you sad at all, and it actually makes you relieved.

Pretending

You know, a lot of people say I major in pretend. As a theatre major it is my job to make people believe things that aren't real. But isn't that really just lying? I've been thinking about this lately because I've finally come clean about some major lies in my life. When I was a kid, I was watched by family. When my great aunt wasn't around however, my great uncle would let his son beat me around. This week I found out he's dying, and even though it makes me sound like an awful person, I don't really care. I mean, he let a little girl get beat up by her much older boy cousin. I'm not referring to a playful horsing around kind of thing, it was much more serious than that. I finally told this to my mom just this week. She half sounded like she could see that happening and half surprised. I think what really bothered me is that I kept this a secret until I was a junior in college. I couldn't admit that someone who was supposed to love me and take care of me could abuse the trust I put in them. And it's even harder to admit now that I still love his son, because he is my family. But what truly breaks my heart is the cold person I've become towards this man. This man who used to married to one of the greatest women in my life. The man who I'm still afraid will show up where I live or work or go to school. The man I've spent half my life hating. The man who was supposed to protect me because he was my family. One question keeps returning to me: Do I need to pretend to love this man after all he's done, or can I just wash my hands of this and walk away?