The Death of Nana Rage Part Two: You Can't Pick Your Family

Hey Ragers and Ragettes, after the post about Nana, I had a little cry. I also had my beauty therapist come round and my long talons are back, my eyebrows are on fleek and she French plaited my short hair. (My hair is in that strange in between stage where it's just irritating. I'm growing it and preparing it for my project in October....)

Suzanne said rightly that "Sometimes you just need to get things off your chest and then Pamper yourself and not think so hard!!!"

I'm pampered and ready to give you the rest of the story about Nana Rage's death.

As you know from my last post, my dad's family flew in from all corners of the globe to give Nana Rage a send off. Two of those people are the Colonel and his wife.

His wife is my dad's sister. She's two years older than my dad and has it in her head that her shit doesn't smell.  Oh yes, I'm pretty sure there is one of these in every family.

She married into a good family. The colonel (my uncle) is also my godfather. He was in the Air Force, rose through the ranks and retired a one star General.

They have always turned their noses down at my mama and my family. They would make fun of my mama saying she was stupid because English isn't her first language (mama speaks 7 languages). They'd make fun of mama's clothes because she'd shop at second hand stores. They turn their nose up at me because I am tattooed, pierced and the fact that I have bipolar disorder (my mental health is obviously a shameful thing for them)

And you would think that at a time like this, they'd act with some decorum....did they fuck!

It all started when I was picked up st the airport by the colonel and Nana's nephew. The 2 of them chatted in the car, with me in the back. Well, it was mostly the colonel chatting about how wonderful his kids and grandkids were.

He asked what I was up to and I started to tell him, he interrupted me to tell me how wonderful his niece was. Fab.

Whenever the colonel and his wife were in the room, there was an atmosphere. They were constantly boasting and didn't even really give me or mama the time of day.

Even when my sister face timed I asked if they wanted to talk to her (everyone else chatted and laughed with my sister) they refused to talk to her.

When we went to scatter the ashes, the colonel couldn't make it up the hill. I videoed the ashes being scattered. I sent the video to my cousins and to my sister, and they were grateful. I asked if the colonel wanted to see the video. He gave me a look as if to say, uh why would I want to see that? I asked to have a photograph with them (their daughter, my cousin asked for this) and they flat out refused.

At dinner, the colonel's wife said that she had her DNA tested (keep in mind that she is my dad's sister) and was proudly telling us that they found that my dad's side of the family have Belgian, Scottish, Viking, Irish and English DNA. She then looked at my mama and said, luckily I don't have inferior DNA....it took every cell in my body to stop me from getting up and dumping the roast chicken on that stuffy bitch's head!

And it didn't end there. When they left, they didn't even say goodbye to me, mama or to my uncle who had taken care of Nana Rage for the last 11 years!!! (They looked their noses down at my uncle also)

When they left, the atmosphere completely changed. Everyone was happier. We were joking and laughing and smiling.

I talked to mama in private about this and she said, Betty, hold your head up high. You were polite and you at least made the effort to come over (I was the only grandchild that attended)

I mean seriously....

Why the fuck do they think that they are better????? We have the same fucking blood going through our veins, my nana was my family too!!

So, when I returned, I decided to get my DNA tested. Why? I'm proud of who I am, inferior DNA and all.

I'm sorry if this is a strange post but I don't understand what makes family act like this? Families are supposed to be there for each other. They are supposed to support and help. We're blood related whether they like it or not.

So, I have decided I am going to be extra nice to them. Every birthday, anniversary and holiday I'm sending them cards. I'm going to be so lovely and sweet until they are sick. They cannot then say that I am awful.

Sigh. Families, eh? Can't live with them and you can't kill them...

Until next time Ragers and Ragettes, keep your head and standards high and your heels even higher

Lots of love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxxx