Six Feet Under

And then there was the funeral.

We know about the persona non grata antics they went through ensuring they had an eviction plan in place should I even think for a minute about coming to J.'s funeral.  Like that was ever going to happen. 

Going to a funeral is about paying respect. I had paid enough. And had no respect for any of them.  I had love and admiration for Moira and Abby.  But didn't necessarily need to walk into the lion's den to let them know it. 

I am sure Endorra and Sheila were secretly wishing I'd show up so they could make a scene.  Wail and carry on like bereaved loons and act as though his murderess had just walked in.  I would never have given them the satisfaction. 

But when it came time for them to say their final goodbyes to J. in his casket and cover his body with the blanket that shrouds a person in their casket, Abby had balked. Couldn't go through with it.

And here is where Endorra earned her Club Box Seats in Hell.  She forced Abby to come to the casket, placed her hand on the blanket, and moved it to make her cover J.'s body.  Abby was shaking.  Endorra had controlled her. It is a memory Abby will hold forever. And Endorra lost her in an instant for an eternity.

And since you can't literally divorce your family, Abby and Moira have just figuratively have done so. Participate minimally in "can't miss" functions. Show up for birthday dinners. Celebrate graduations. All with fake smiles plastered to their sweet faces and murderous thoughts in their heads.

And then Moira tells me a little tidbit that shocks me. 

Even now, when I have been gone from J.'s life for so long that I managed to have 5 months of solitude on either side of a two year relationship with Scott since the last time we had so much as a conversation, and I have been gone from their lives, Sheila's and Endorra's for even longer since I'd made myself scarce since the Wedding Episode, they still interrogate the girls about what, if any, contact they have with me.

It is strictly forbidden. The question asked through clenched teeth.  "You don't dare have any contact with that bitch, do you?" 

As if an affirmative answer might get them written out of The Will.  Whoopee. 

It amazes me that anyone could even be bothered to be that angry.  And at what?  I ruined J.'s life because I welshed on a deal to marry him?  Like that would have been such a fruitful thing to have done? The only positive thing it may have invited would have been that I would have certainly been pushed to the edge of my sanity long before J.'s heart flickered to a dead stop on its own and surely would have resorted to putting a pillow over his face in his sleep.  It would have just accelerated the whole ball of wax.

I know it is just deflecting. I know it is just that they can not stare reality in its face with their beady little eyes and see what the truth is. 

The truth is this: They know I figured it out all on my own and are pissed the little charade did not work. The fact that I trusted them all for so long had just lulled them into a false sense of hope that their little plan to marry off their biggest burden had worked. And then it blew up in the pinched little jowly faces. 

And now, they've not only lost J., they've lost any shred of the life he'd had as well.

And as brutal a reality as that is, it paled in comparison to what came next.