My Worst Memory

Sad as it sounds, my worst memory was christmas day 2012 (christmas just gone) and the christmas eve leading up to it. 

I was so so so looking forward to that christmas, mostly because it was the first that me and my partner were going to spend in a relationship together. I remember the sheer dissapointment that I felt when I was told that my Great Grandfather was expected to only live till midnight christmas eve. 

I wasn’t particularly close to him, but despite this I was obviously still quite upset, yet it would only be made worse by what was to come. My parents carried on christmas eve trying to act normal, obviously in an attempt to not ruin it for my sister and I, though there was a depressing tone to the rest of the day. 

We woke up christmas day not as happy as we generally would be (knowing that grandad might not have made it though the night), but were pleased to find that he was still fighting that morning. I remember he passed away around midday (I’m not entirely sure of the time). 

Sitting in my room, trying not to feel sorry for myself, as I was trying to find space in my room for all my new stuff , I received a text from my Uncle. In this text he demanded that I take down a picture that I posted onto Facebook (which was a collectors replica vicodin pot, from my favourite tv show House, which my partner had shipped in from America for me). Of course I was a bit stupid to post it, however when I did it was before Grandad passed away, when we were opening our presents in a momentary happy period when I forgot what was going on. This was not the problem. The problem was when my uncle (who helped raise me since birth, and was practically a second father to me) accused me of taking the vicodin (which were actually just sweets in the pot) and being a druggie. He went as far as saying that I was disgracing the family and putting shame on my grandma after her father just died. 

I remember how I felt; as if I’d just been punched in the stomach. I carried on the day as normal, trying not to make things worse for my dad by telling him what his brother said to me. I remember I drank. A lot. I steadily carried on drinking throughout the day, getting worse and worse – not drinking to get drunk, drinking out of depression. I looked at my phone to see my uncle slating me off on Twitter and I just couldn’t handle it. I went into my room, blocked him on Twitter and Facebook, deleted the photo, deleted the texts, and threw my phone on the floor. I then cried. I am not sure how long I sat on my floor crying for, but I do know it was a few hours. Worse yet, I had a full bottle of wine in my room which I sat and drank to myself.

I haven’t spoken to him or my grandparents since. They’re coming round this weekend too, yayy!! (sarcasm). 

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