Fit as a fucking fiddle.

[Warning: contains foul language.]

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Do you have this vague memory of someone saying that a common result amongst the relatives and friends of a suicider is that they tend to blame themselves? Yeah. That may be the thing in some cases, but in my family it is each other that they're blaming. Would it really be that bloody difficult to pull their heads out of their asses and look at the facts? First of all, blaming will not bring him back and does no-one any good in the long run. Secondly, blaming others only makes the atmosphere even worse for those who feel no need to blame anyone. Thirdly, coping with my father's death is probably difficult enough without destroying the remaining relationships.

I called my mother today to inquire the names of the newspapers in which she had put my father's obituary notice. (She talked to me after the Combat class to offer her condolences and askme if I was okay; she had read my father's notice from a paper and connected him to me due to my unusual last name.) Before I got to ask her about the notice she described the situation at my grandparents' place where they had all been earlier this week, selecting hymns for the funeral with a priest. It appears that both of them, my father's parents that is, are blaming my mother for their son's death. And as I imagined someone would be flat out accusing my mother that it's her fault my father killed himself. But what I didn't imagine was that it would be my grandfather to say it. Well, at least he had enough reason to apologise my mother. My grandmother (a dyed-in-the-wool fundamentalist Christian who, naturally, after living her whole life in hypocrisy) didn't say it out loud, although I'm quite sure (No. I'm absolutely certain) that she thinks that way. I think it's my aunt (my father's sister) who doesn't blame my mother.

It's probably only a matter of time when they start accusing the children. I know I'll be able to handle it since I've had over a week to deal with it myself (without anyone feeding me these ridiculous ideas) and I am strong enough to stand behind my own principles publicly. It's my younger siblings I'm worried about. They are there, right in the middle of the crossfire of the battle between our grandparents and our mother. They're not strong enough to handle that kind of arguing, the manipulation used in our parents' constant arguments when we were children. I hope you're wrong, Millikan, for my siblings' sake. I need to keep it together, because on Thursday we're going to have to have someone in the funeral who is able to control and reason those emotional disagreements between them; someone who is able to tell my grandmother to quit the navel-gazing and realise that not only did she lose her son, but that we lost our father, my aunt lost her other brother, my mother lost her husband.

Fuck. I have to somehow get familiar in advance with what the bible says of suicide to know what to expect from my grandmother. I couldn't care less what that thing has to say about suicide, although I can already guess how the Old Testament views the matter at hand. I don't want to read some stupid, ridiculous, paradoxal book to gather small pieces of prejudiced attitudes. FUCK! It's because of these fundamentalists who take the bible's word literally only to ignore the important ones ("don't judge so you wouldn't be judged") that make me loathe Christianity. A small yet very loud minority.

I can't wait for the actual funeral day: more arguments, more useless blames, more fundamental Christianity. Jesus fucking Christ. If only he could see what his original message of loving others as they are has been turned into, what it's being used to justify. I am ashamed of being a human being, but proud of not being a Christian.