I lit out at sixteen. By thirty I realized getting out then was what saved me from repeating the dismal life path I’d witnessed with my grandparents, parents, and now siblings. The mixture of Irish blood from my mother’s side and German blood from my father’s side, which combo I shared with only one of my six siblings, served me and my younger brother, Oakley, well. Oakley joined the service at eighteen and traveled to US Military bases for six years before starting a family on the other side of the state.
Forty years have gone by. Maw has gone to the great beyond. Oakley and I each receive phone calls.
Baby sister, Mary Jo, says to me, in her best chiding voice, “The least you can do is come home for the funeral since you never did squat for Maw when she was alive.”
Oakley hears from Cosmo, the middle child, and probably the most neglected of us kids growing up. “Maw told me how disappointed she was in you just before she croaked.” Like me, Oakley was also given the “the least you can do…” spiel.
I show up for the funeral. Oakley doesn’t. I sit in the back corner, away from my siblings, who are so familiar, yet like strangers now.
Two weeks later, a family friend calls and invites me to his house. A box sits on the coffee table.
“They want you to have these things to remember your Maw by.”
[247 words]
NOTE: The story needed to be edited to reflect first person perspective all of the way through. This is a fictional story, told in first person.
Jenne Gray and C.E. Ayr are the hosts of The Unicorn Challenge.
The rules are:
Maximum of 250 words.
Based on photo prompt above.
That’s it.
Tao Talk 
I see mom left you her skates. Did she leave you her key?
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No. It went with her :(
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A vivid description of a dysfunctional family and the guilt vibe, right down to the box of trash, that’s so often used. An uncomfortable story – the closed atmosphere of the family comes right through in your words, Lisa. Great piece.
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Jenne, thank you very much for your comment. It’s more truth than fiction.
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The guilt of choosing to be functional…it’s never-ending, and everywhere. (K)
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<3 I know :(
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A nicely woven story
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Thank you very much, Sadje.
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You’re always welcome
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I know families like that…in fact the major portion are dysfunctional. Good story Lisa…and close to the truth unfortunately.
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I wish it wasn’t so :(
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It’s always difficult when you’re the black sheep of the family. I enjoyed the story ❤️
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Aboli I wouldn’t call Marigold and Oakley black sheep, but I agree that scapegoats do have a tough time of it. Thank you for reading, your comment, and glad you enjoyed the story <3
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You’re welcome ❤️
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<3
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As hard as it is, sometimes you just need to get away from the toxic environment in order to survive and thrive. Good on Oakley for not even going. That box of junk is proof positive she did the right thing.
Well written, Lisa.
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Dale, you’re so right. Thank you for the supportive comments, they are appreciated <3
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My pleasure, Lisa :)
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I liked your story. :)
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Thank you, ladysighs :)
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Families, hmm, what you gonna do?
Too real a depiction to be fun, Li!
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C.E. I know :( Thank you for reading and your comment.
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Been there … big time.
I was banned from my mother’s funeral; I went anyway.
Good one, Li.
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How terrible to be banned. I’m glad you went anyway. With some families, it feels like carrying around an open wound that will never heal.
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That’s a great analogy. The wounds have healed, fortunately; however, once words are spoken, they can’t be taken back and are never forgotten.
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You can feel the dysfunction and cruelty in every word. So true that wounds inflicted by family run the deepest.
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Thank you for reading and your comment. Yes it is.
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