It's the smallest things ... feeling very dopey today (no jokes please), after a distinct shortage of sleep last night: for the stupidest of reasons, really, I have an insect bite on the bottom corner of my left shoulderblade which is insanely itchy. I've tried several sprays and ointments but none of them seem to have much effect. It's more or less bearable during the day, but trying to rise above it at night while trying to sleep is ... trying.

I was re-reading a letter from Mum, about Shirley's funeral (amongst other things of course), and one part really made me grit my teeth, reading about how broken up her father was, at her death. I have no doubt it was genuinely felt, but it would have been nice if he'd shown some damn support for her in the last couple of years. I know she called on him several times, asking for financial assistance when things were desparate for her, without any real response: and things were desparate enough that I sent her money myself from England a few times, rather than see her lose her flat or some other terrible expedient.

I'm not sure I've spelled out exactly how bad it got, but between the crushing burden of her debts from her second marriage (and how I wish she'd declared bankruptcy! but apparently that was a cheat); and her illness causing enormous absences from work (and eventually losing her job of course); and the DSW screwing her around unmercifully and denying her the sickness benefit at various times: it was an enormous onus on her, just keeping body & soul together - something difficult enough to do anyway, when you're in the wells of depression and drowning.

Of course, Brian was such a controlling, withholding presence in her life, and always so disapproving of her, that this behaviour should come as no surprise. It's funny, really, that she was so vehement about her mother - and I could see why, she used to be quite shrewish and bitter - and yet I think her father did more damage in the end. I can - from a distance - understand why Valerie was compelled into her bitterness, from how he was so .... hmm, patriarchal sums it up: between his long absences at sea, his total control of finances and his philandering, it's hard to blame her.

That same pattern, of course, is what did the damage to Shirley, too, and it really seems to have determined what sort of man she kept choosing for herself. It's one thing I still regret: I urged her for the last 15 years to find a therapist of some sort, to try and dig out the poisons her family had left her with, but she never really took it on board as an idea.

I have a feeling I'm repeating myself here, but so be it: I keep chewing over the same ground, trying to find something worth learning in it.

It's funny, really, it's taken me twenty or more years to really take on the idea of the patriarchy, after so many go-rounds with my lesbian friends over it. The idea of a conspiracy, or an organisation, is ludicrous, but that's not it: it's a reflex, a habit of attitude, that they are talking about, and it does horrible damage to both men and women, in different ways. I guess I'm a bit dim, at being so slow to catch on to it, but ... it's like we were talking different languages, I guess.

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In passing, one other thing in my Mum's letter really amazed me: she regretted not seeing more of Shirley, and blamed herself for laziness. Laziness .. Jeanne? the Energiser Bunny of Miramar thinks she is lazy? That is bizarre beyond words: I don't recall ever seeing her being lazy or indolent; in fact my memories are all of her being on the go, doing things, being involved: dinners, parties, events, shows, committees, organising, helping, just extending a hand, you name it.

Oh, and I almost forgot (for Mum): If you can, get hold of a DVD of the the first opera from BBC's Ring Cycle, from around 2003-4. It has Bryn Terfel as Wotan, and wow! is it an eye-opener. I got to watch it broadcast live at the time, and was riveted, despite my considerable distaste for opera in general. He is magnetic, and the whole show is quite spellbinding (and it was a real misfortune that he took ill & couldn't complete the rest of the cycle - I don't recall who replaced him).

Maundering

I spent too much of yesterday & last night, thinking about the women in my life: starting from Shirley (naturally enough) but considering most of them, and realising how damaged they all were, from their childhoods. There's a temptation to think that I only choose damaged women, either from lack of confidence or from broken-wing syndrome, but actually I don't think that's it, because it extends to women I've only known as friends, or even in some cases just acquaintances, and they all seem to be damaged.

Not all in the same way, for sure, but far too many are broken in such similar ways: and almost all looking for a father-figure, to make it right, or (as Shirley) to repeat the same pattern of damage, it seems.

I suppose the same is true of men (like I care): and lo, there are both Paul and I, hitched to strong, bighearted blondes :) Which doesn't really bother me as I don't see it as broken so much as a point of healing. I figure everyone is condemned to either seek out their mother/father, or seek out the diametric reverse, there doesn't seem to be much escaping from that.

But looking at Shirley's history (and Kay's, and Amanda's, and Michelle's, and Linda's, and ...well, you get the idea), & the cycle seems to be, to pick up with someone like dear old Dad, endure a repeat of the same treatment (whether beatings, being ignored, being manipulated, or whatever), breaking up messily and at great length, then - immediately! - stumbling into the next iteration of the same cycle: and despite my efforts, I've never really been able to help any of them break out from this vicious circle.

Depressing thought, really.

Thank god Cat went looking for the opposite of her father, for that matter.

But it also makes me wonder if this is an artefact of our generation - at some level, I can't see it, why would it be so unique? On the other hand, where the women are reacting to distant/absent fathers, does this mean that our generations' fathers were more distant and less involved than their parents in turn? I suppose there's some plausibility to that - until I think of Victorian childrearing & realise that parenting in the 20s & 30s & 40s must emerge from that hideous pall. So, no, we must all go through this I guess; although prior to the 60s I guess it just wasnt really discussed openly.

Oh well, enough blithering for the day

Every man's death diminishes me

Well, actually, I've never seen eye to eye with Donne on this one - some people's deaths diminish noone, and are nothing but a blessing.

Not this time, tho: my ex-wife, Shirley, has died. As far as I can tell from this distance, died in hospital so presumably the brain tumour did come back and grab her. I'm glad of this, as it was a tossup whether depression drove her to suicide, or one of her ailments wound up killing her, and suicide always seems such a negative, stupid way to go (barring voluntary euthanasia I guess).

Hopefully at some point I'll hear what exactly happened - last I heard from her, 2 months ago, she was in remission, and heading off for an extended vacation in the South Island on her motorbike. I guess something happened & it came back again.

It feels pretty empty here, thinking about her, and Kay, and Pip, all dead and gone now. I know, as you get older, your friends start dying off, but I didn't think it'd start quite this soon (soon hahah, like I'm still a youngster).

Poor Shirley, she didn't want that much from life - just a normal life, husband & kids & house in the suburbs. Doesn't seem like too much to ask for, really, but she never got there: too damaged growing up, and then horrendous picks in men, over and over (of course the one leads to the other, given what her father was like). Not that she was ever going to get the normal life with me, but since then, oh dear what a bunch of scum she chose: I guess a pretty fair reflection of the father-figure thing.

Ah well, ave atque vale Shirl - Sorry I was a lousy husband, glad I was your friend for the last 20 years.