Post the Hundred-and-Sixteenth: A Response

First and foremost, I have to thank WordPress for featuring me on Freshly Pressed. I have had more traffic this week than I’ve ever seen, and it’s been magnificent. I sit here, constantly clicking refresh and watching the numbers soar ever higher. I feel like Victoria Elizabeth Barnes, and it’s glamorous. Welcome, all you brand-new glorious Gentle Readers. I hope you stick around, or at least go back to the utter beginning and read every single post. Twice, if you love me. There’s also the ever-so-tempting option of helping to fund my adventures or buy my book.

Patchwork Narrative

Speaking of ancient posts from many, many months ago, when I started this blog, there was a bit of family trouble. We had to visit a lawyer regarding our options about a very unpleasant situation with my grandfather’s widow. Feelings were running high, and I couldn’t cope. I started drinking at two thirty in the afternoon, and posted this by five. Go ahead and take a minute to read it, if you haven’t already, because it’s currently the second-most viewed post on this blog, right after the one featured over on Freshly Pressed. You may also want to check out the comment section, and my new friend Sally Mae.

My perspective on this situation (the Sally Mae situation, not the situation described in the post) is probably a little skewed, because all of this just happened, and I’m a little shaken up by the whole thing, but I believe that I tried to explain that I wrote the post from a very hurt place, and the situation with Lillian has somewhat stabilized since then.


Frankly, if I’d remembered the damned post was still up, all these months later, I would have pulled it.

So, Sally Mae, while you may have spoken to family members at the funeral, they were not necessarily giving their true opinions. I know that I was exhausted that day, and having an anxiety attack, and murmuring polite nonsense to well-wishers and fellow mourners, whose faces all blurred together.  Funerals are wearying.

What’s more, Sally Mae, there are a lot of stories that I could tell you about people’s actions that do seem a little cruel. I can understand Lillian’s fear that we were out for money or the house – which was the furthest thing from anyone’s mind. What we were out for were old letters, photographs, and heirlooms – things that she was sorting through, on her own, without a member of the family there to help her know what might be important and what not. I know for a fact that several items were taken to Goodwill, and feelings were deeply hurt on both sides. After the initial lawyer’s visit, to determine our options, we collectively decided to drop the matter, not because we didn’t have a case, but because it seemed unkind.


I suspect, Sally, that the “karma” you called upon is in actuality me being further disinherited for speaking from a place of hurt and anger, and I suspect that a little bird might be helping that “karma” along. As I’d mentioned in one of the comments on the other post, though, a dialogue has opened since that point in time, and I have received some very precious heirlooms. The record collection I was so keen to acquire, for example, I now have, as well as my grandfather’s jewelry box – which, when I opened it, had a hand-written note saying “For Tyler” in it, causing me to cry, right in front of Lillian. She started crying, too; we hugged.

Perhaps you don’t know as much of the story as you think, darling. I’ve been trying very hard to see things from your point of view; I hope you’ll do the me the courtesy of trying to see things from mine.


About Ty DeLyte

Madame DeLyte has suffered a grave disappointment - YET AGAIN - and still believes that freedom, beauty, and truth are what's valuable, rather than vulgar cash. He'd add love to that list - but, well, what can he say about love?
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