Here and now I've been putting this off -- talking about it and dealing with it -- but Maliavale's post about her dad telling her to put down the book and go outside has given me a little nudge. And while you'll probably be wondering what the hell my post has to do with hers, just be patient. My sister called me a day or so before Thanksgiving and said she had to tell me something. She paused. I waited. "Debbie died." "WHAT? Are you KIDDING me?" "No. I'm serious." "What happened!?" "She had an aneurysm. She was just walking down the street when it happened." "WOW. Holy crap. Wow." Now. Who's Debbie, you ask. In short, she was our stepmother. She and dad got divorced at least 10 years ago. I haven't seen her since. My sister and I've been having a hard time with this. You see, we didn't really like Debbie. She wasn't very nice to my sister, and I'd never really forgiven her for it. The thing is, she would do and say mean things to my sister when no one else was around. And my sister used to tell me that Debbie didn't like her, but I wouldn't listen. (She never gave me specifics until much, much later.) It wasn't really that I wasn't listening to her, it's more that I felt helpless. What could I do about it? I was just a kid too. She didn't do or say anything mean to me (because I think she knew she wouldn't get away with it. Wait except potentially one thing I'll tell you about later). She was just... uncomfortable to be around. My sister was about 3 when dad and Debbie got together. My sister and our dad have always been close. She's always been daddy's little girl. For some reason, lots of women are apparently threatened by that. I guess I fail to see the logic in it, but whatever. I remember staying at dad and Debbie's. She had two sons, both younger than me. They shared a room. And there was a room for me and my sister. Debbie babysat some kids during the week. All day, we'd all be relegated to the backyard. No coming in, though now I don't remember why I would have been there during the week. I do remember, however, spending lots of time in the school library choosing books before spending weekends "with my dad." The quotes are because I don't really remember him being there very much. He must have been working. Debbie "babysat," which pretty much consisted of the kids playing outside while she laid in the sun. Every day. For hours. She used Ban du Soliel. (Or however it's spelled.) It was kind of orange. Which is kind of the color I remember her skin being. Oh and in addition to being ordered outside all day long, we went to bed at 9 p.m. No matter what. Even when I was a freaking teenager. I hated going there. Once, when I was a freshman in college, I decided I wanted a perm. Now I don't need a perm. My hair is all kinds of curly, but she as a stylist and gave me a perm. It was these tight little curls. It was awful. I cried for a week. And I've often wondered if she did that on purpose. I have one nice story about her. She did my hair for my junior prom -- and actually, I think for my senior photos too. It looked pretty good both times. But for the prom, I'd driven my mom's car to the salon because mine didn't have air conditioning. Her car was a little bit bigger than mine. I misjudged some distances when I was pulling into the parking space and scraped the car next to me. I was scared and didn't know what to do. I went into the salon and while I Debbie was shampooing my hair, I told her what happened. "Well, do you want to leave a note?" she asked me. "OK." So she helped me figure out what to write and I took the note and put it on the car with my (mom's) phone number on it. (Everything turned out fine.) All this to say... my ex-stepmother died. I hadn't seen her in years and still had/have a lot of bad feelings -- I don't think anger is the right word. The weird thing is that neither my sister or I told our mom. She just asked me about it a few days before Christmas. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked. Why indeed. I don't know. I guess I just didn't want to think or talk about it. It's hard to know how to feel when someone you didn't like very much dies. Can you grieve? I don't know. Maybe it's better to hold on to one good memory and let the rest fall away.