I had a weird thing happen to me last week. It was either the day of Tammy Faye’s funeral or the day after. I was going through my old voicemail messages. I had something like 40 of them I hadn’t listened to so I figured I should clear some of them out. I came across a number I didn’t recognize. Curious, I played the message.
It was Tammy Faye. It was from February 16th, less than a month before she died. It was a pretty brief message: Sam, your number popped up on my phone. I was calling to see if everything was okay.
She sounded sick and frail.
Here’s the weird thing. I don’t have Tammy Faye’s number in my phone. I deleted it. Months, if not years, ago. There is no way I could have accidentally air dialed her. Believe me- my phone has a mind of its own! That is a very distinct possibility. My kids couldn’t have used my phone to call her unless they had her actual number. I even checked the call log to see if perhaps one of them did plug in her number on my phone for some reason. Nothing.
Ultimately it doesn’t really matter why my number popped up. I’m more freaked out about the fact she still had my number in her phone. Why?
Bob messaged me to let me know CF saw his condolence message but didn’t reply. What a surprise. He told me he hoped that some good could come of this some day. I don’t believe in fairy tales and am getting a little tired of his excuses for CF so I was a bit feisty when I replied:
What good could come of it? I’ve been left in poverty, depending on his support payments which he makes when he wants and just bounced a check. I live with my mom and sleep on the couch. My kids have lost their dad. They’ve lost having a mom who is home and available for them. Rock Star is screwed when it comes to paying for college. She missed out on graduating with her class from her original high school She hates it here and suffers from anxiety. Picasso seems to be okay but who knows. The only people prospering are Harley and her kids.
His response was that the only good that could come of it is that one day CF and the kids would once again have a familial relationship.
Bob, I love ya; I appreciate the support you’ve given me since this shit storm began, and I realize you consider CF a friend (even if he no longer considers you one), but you’re stupid. In what world can a father abandon his children, play Daddy of the Decade to kids who aren’t his, and the great equalizer will be him reconciling with his kids so that they, too, can eat his special blend of shit sundae?
I don’t think it has ever occurred to him that maybe reconciling with their deadbeat dad is NOT in their best interest. He hasn’t done a single thing to try to make things right with them. He continues to ask Rock Star to pass along messages to her brother because he doesn’t have his number. Hmmmm…. if only there was a way he could get that number. If only he knew someone that might actually have that number. This is his genius at work, ladies and gentlemen. Stymied by not having his son’s phone number which has never changed, and forced to ask his daughter to pass along the message.
He continues to begin every message with: I know you hate me but… Can the man be any more of a victim?
Maybe she needs to begin replying to these messages with: I know you’ve already replaced me with your whore’s kids but… Or, maybe: I know your whore will always be more important than me but…
I’m kidding, folks. Don’t bombard me with messages about how no contact is the best tactic. I know that. She doesn’t generally respond.
A few days later Bob contacted me again to ask if the kids had heard from CF since the funeral. Nope. I did tell him, however, about my message from beyond the grave. He told me it was too bad I didn’t get the message earlier because maybe I could have reached out and we could have cleared the air. In turn, I told him that honestly, even if I had received the message the day I got it I wouldn’t have called her because I had nothing to say to her.
Death brings out the sap in most people and I’m trying hard not to get sucked in. She chose her son and his whore and her four kids over her own flesh and blood. The twenty years I spent as part of her family meant nothing. I was quickly tossed aside and discarded. She was happily skipping off to funerals with her precious baby boy and his cunt face cum dumpster. She couldn’t gush over her enough. So, she got exactly what she wanted. Her son and his whore were there at her funeral. I’m sure the whore’s kids made an appearance as well. Have to keep up the image.
Rock Star and I had an interesting conversation about this as we drove to her latest cheer competition. She pretty much admitted that if they had ever apologized or tried to make things right with her she probably would have reconciled with them. They never did. There was never an apology, never an acknowledgement that any wrongdoing had taken place. Tammy Faye could post comments to her on Facebook but she couldn’t take the time to text her or call her and have an honest, one-on-one conversation with her.
She never bothered to call her or text her when Rock Star first found out about her dad and I getting a divorce, finding out her dad was having an affair. Rock Star had called her dad and demanded her grandmother be put on the phone because she didn’t believe him when he told her he was with his mom. Once Tammy Faye got on the phone she said she didn’t want to do this anymore and threw the phone down, hanging up on them. Not a word.
That was her chance to tell Rock Star she was sorry about what had happened, sorry for her part in it. That was her chance to act like she actually gave a shit about what was happening to her and her brother.
Where was she when we were forced out of our home? Where was she when Rock Star and Picasso were forced to leave behind their school and their friends yet again, thanks to their father? Where was she when Rock Star found out she couldn’t get her license and would have to have yet another learner’s permit for 6 more months? Where was she all those months when Rock Star was hating life and feeling like a nobody thanks to the move forced upon her by her dad? Where was she when Rock Star was dealing with anxiety?
I’ll tell you where she was. She was up her son’s ass, gazing at him adoringly, and gushing over his whore, telling her how pretty she was.
My mother looked up her obituary. Curiosity meets the cat. It said she had four kids. Understandable, I suppose. They included her two stepsons whom she had helped raise. CF and Harley were listed together. Naturally. And then it listed her as having 18 grandchildren.
I have no idea where they came up with that number. Jezebel has two kids plus her two step kids. That makes 4. Her oldest stepson has 5 kids; the youngest has 2. That brings the total up to 11 and leaves only her son. He has 2 children which brings the number up to 13. Even counting Harley’s kids that only brings it up to 17. Maybe somebody has a kid that I’m not aware of. Nonetheless I find it appalling that those idiots could actually list Harley the Whore’s four kids as her grandkids. She’s been “granny” to them for a whole whopping two years and almost all of that time has been while he was married to me. At the very least take my two kids off the list. She chose Harley’s brood over my two.
I know. I can’t control what goes in her obituary. It’s also over and done with now. Plus, the very wise advice: No contact is the path to enlightenment. So very true.
It just goes to show you what a dog and pony show death and funerals are. Everyone is celebrating her as this wonderful person who loved everybody and was so sweet. The reality is she had no problem with her daughter cheating on her husband. Either of them. She had no problem with her son cheating on his wife of 20 years; in fact, she encouraged it. I guess she just didn’t correctly anticipate the reaction of my children. Unfortunately for her our memories are long and are not softened by death.