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This diary entry is written by tiggerlemon101. ( View all entries )
 
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Oh, to have a normal family...Category: (general)
Friday, 22 July 2011
04:10:04 AM (GMT)
I think we've established that my family is big?  Yeah.  Okay, so you all know that.
 In an immediate family (grandparents, their kids, their kids, etc.) of more than one
hundred people, everyone has a favourite- favourite cousin, favourite aunt, favourite
uncle... favourite grandchild.
   For some reason, that one hurts.  It hurts even after both grandparents are gone. 
It doesn't make me love my grandparents any less or miss them any less, and I
certainly don't love my cousin any less, but still.
   It's usually in the little things- he's the only one she had a full, 8 1/2 by 11
graduation picture of in her apartment.  She always asked after him when she heard
I'd stayed at his house for the weekend.  She commented on all his dates.  You know,
insignificant things, but enough that we all got the picture.  My biggest thing was
that she was always saying "Patrick goes to the best university in Canada, you know."
 Which he does.  But... ugh.  My grandma was so sweet; I could never harbour any ill
will towards her.  She was just a beautiful person.  However, sometimes she'd say
that stuff and I'd just thinking, "Give me five years, grandma.  Give me five
years and I'll be everything Patrick is and more."
   It's partially my fault- I have this (admittedly sick and twisted) need to be the
best at everything.  It's not even good enough for me to be the smartest overall, or
the thinnest, or the best dancer, or whatever- I have to have the highest history
mark, the smallest bust measurement, the highest marks in the slip jig round.  I know
it's a flaw but it's me.  Nobody's perfect.  Except Patrick, in her eyes.
   So put those two things together, and you've got a bit of a dilemma.  That little
dilemma became a rather big one today.  First of all, you need to know that in a
family of fifteen children, only two daughters have a daughter.  My cousin Caitlin
and I are as close as sisters, truly, and we do share everything.  When it comes to
the family, Cait and I are a package deal.  So, anyways, we were all sitting
together, doing the third round of sorting through Grandma's things.  Someone asks
about her wedding ring and my aunt goes... "Oh, about that... I always thought
Cathleen (my mom) had Dad's, to give to Mary-Catherine, and I would give Mom's
to Cait, but she doesn't have it, so we still have to work that one out.  But we do
have her earrings..."
    Cait's been waiting for this ring since September and it's her heirloon from
Grandma; I'm not going to take it from her.  The earrings are beautiful and my
grandfather bought them for my grandmother.  She never took them out.  It's an honour
to have them, of course.  It's just that I had thought that Cait and I would be a
set- daughters of daughters, both with rings.  That mattered to me, a little bit.
    Patrick has my ring.  
    I understand why- it's a Claddagh, which has inportance in Irish culture, and one
day when he was young he was admiring it.  Our grandpa promised that he'd get him
one, but he never got the chance to, so one of my aunts suggested giving it to him. 
She didn't know about the other thing, but my mom and Cait's were both there, and
neither objected.  My grandma didn't object.
   I have a Claddagh that I wear every day, and Patrick didn't, but it wasn't about
the Claddagh to me and I had hope that for once it wasn't about him living far away
or going to a good school or just being freaking perfect like he always is, either. 
And he is about as close to perfect as it gets, really.  Straight A student (which I
am).  Always nice to everybody (which I really try to be- I'm just not as good at it
as he is).  Best university in Canada (which I will go to, either that or a better
school abroad).  Looks like Taylor Lautner (I think I'm... pretty enough...).
   And I have to hear that, all the time.  Even at school, where you think you can
leave your family drama behind, I can't.  Ever since one of my friends came to my
grandma's funeral, she has sort of a crush on him, and every single time I say
something about my cousin, she goes "Patrick?  The hot one?"  Which, of
course, leaves me thinking "Yeah, him.   The hot one.  The smart one.  The nice one. 
The perfect one."
   And now he's the one with my ring, too.
   Awesome.
Last edited: 22 July 2011


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