Losing my wife was one tragedy. Losing my in-laws: not so much. Going through pictures, there are some that make me cry tears of sappiness. Others, I take utter delight in throwing away. Like those of her parents. I hate them, and they hate me. Or if they don't hate me, they should, because I hate them. Every flaw I encountered in my wife, I can trace back to her mom or dad making really bone-headed parenting moves, to say the least.
I have tons of photos scattered across boxes and cellphones and facebooks, and I'm soooo happy to delete, discard and destroy those of her mom and dad. I need the good photos, of my wife alive, and I hate stumbling across those ghosts who haunted my wife while she lived. I'm gonna depend on my photo collection for many years to come, so I'm happy to prune away the rubbish now. There are some memories I don't want to be reminded of. People are always telling me to remember the good times, and not the bad times, so shitcanning pix of her parents is therapeutic, really.
Fortunately, I never have to see those people again, unless I run into them in the store or something. I'm sure, if I do run into one or the other of them, I'll come back and write a blog post about how I bravely leave the store immediately without even buying what I came in for. I'm not a confrontational person, otherwise I'd love to bitch them out and leave them crying about all the hell they put their daughter through. But for now, I'll just enjoy throwing away photos of their likeness, like modern-day voodoo dolls. If I ever meet a witch doctor, I will totally pay him to send them all the bad juju I can afford.
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I hope you brought enough comment to share with the whole class!