Already a few days into the month, and my attitude with everything hasn't really improved much.

The following rant, if you want to call it that, is very dark, and is not meant for everyone. If this is something you feel you may not handle very well, then it is advisable that you don't continue further. I won't feel bad if you choose not to continue, as it is understandable.

My father, to put it simply, is still a bum. Putting his toxic needs before anyone else's, even his own mother's, he continues to spend what ever money lands in his pockets on alcohol, tobacco, and lottery tickets. And when he has what he wants, he tosses her to the side, without giving much in return. This, in turn, has upset my grandmother to the point she is refusing to put a tree up this year, and I can't say I blame her. Between my father's mental digression and fading health, and her closest family members either moved, or passed away, she has nothing left to appreciate for the holidays. Having no money to give for gifts, or charities further adds to the stress. I have tried all I could to comfort her, and be by her side no matter what. But the fact that she has a hard time letting past events go is making that much more difficult.

Holidays for my father's side of the family has always been hard. It doesn't help that depression, and anxiety are two major factors that also come into play. Over the years, I have come to learn why my father's side of the family has as many problems as it does. My father's father also had a severe addiction to tobacco, and alcohol. Through the years of drug abuse, he had developed mental, and physical complications, with my grandmother having to answer his every addictive need. She never received much, if anything, in return, other than more grief in her life. My grandfather, whom I've never met in my life, had developed a severe stage of cancer later on in his, that had taken over his entire body. He was not one for hospital treatment, and instead, would look to his addictions as a means of an alternative cure. Then, on the night of December 24th, 1984, just shortly after I was born, my grandfather stood up, and told the family he was heading out to the barn to check on something. That was the last anyone had ever seen him alive, before the sound of an Winchester 22 rang out from the mentioned barn. It was my father who was the first one to find him shortly after. Because the history my grandfather had with certain people in my town at the time, the local authorities ruled it as a gun cleaning accident to stifle any rumors that would spring about.

It is this memory that plagues both my father, and especially my grandmother, who lost her second love many years after around the same time. And as the years went on, the depression worsened. This year is no different, as it is in fact worse, with all the travel bans in effect, making it impossible to see the loved ones that still remain my grandmother always enjoyed seeing in the past. I've been, and still continue to do all I can to insure that she is happy, though there's only so much that I can do for her.

I am truly sorry if this has upset anyone. This is the dark history that my family has carried with them for many generations, though not many know of its existence in today's times. Perhaps that is for the better.

The lesson here is this: Love those, who love you. For one day, both of you may look to each other for support, and have it when it is needed the most.

That's about it for now. I wish everyone a safe holiday season.

Take care all.