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Technoviking defines post

I've been stewing about this for a while, and oddly enough it didn't come to a head until I was re-reading Iain Banks' The Player of Games this morning.* Carlos and I scheduled Mom's funeral about a month ago so that our relatives could plan around it; we did this deliberately, knowing that it would take time for our relatives (and us, quite frankly) to do some planning with regard to airline tickets and such.

You can imagine my great joy at being informed that neither my godfather and Aunt Maureen, nor my Aunt Pat will be attending the funeral, since it'll interfere with the former's cruise and the latter's annual migration to Florida. I haven't heard from any other relatives on Dad's side of the family, so I'm guessing they're all going to be no-shows as well. Well, Uncle Brendan I didn't really expect to show up anyway, given that he's mired in the poverty-stricken wastelands of upstate New York. It really says something to me that the part of the family that we spent most of our time growing up with, that we know best, and that is arguably the most able to afford it, is blowing off my mother's funeral because it interferes with their leisure activities. It really lets me know where we fit in. After all the years when we busted our asses to get up to Massachusetts to attend funerals, weddings and other family gatherings, this is what we get for our loyalty to family? Betrayal sort of fits the situation, but it doesn't feel nearly strong enough.

I don't blame my cousins for not responding or promising to show up. A lot of them are in the same wretched financial straits Carlos and I are in, and it didn't bother us much that they weren't here for Dad's funeral. Aunts and uncles, though...that's just wrong. That's a breach of loyalty on the most fundamental level, God damn it. What does it mean to be family, if you can't even carry out the basic social obligations?

*I'm beginning to think I should avoid this book when I'm stewing about things.