This is for all the people who commented, and P.M.'d me about, 'For fuck sake don't drop the bowl', especially hildendejulie86, let's see if we can get the wench wet again.
*****
"The funeral's the easy part, you might not believe me but it's true."
"Jesus Colin," said Mum, "I hope not, I want it to get easier from here, not harder."
"No," said her brother, "I had to clean out Dad's stuff, that was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and you Tim, will have to do that for your Dad."
"Thanks Uncle Colin, it's a hard enough day without that to look forward to," I said.
"Tim, it's just the cycle of life, we look after our parents, and our kids look after us, if we're lucky."
"As a matter of fact, his Mum's the person I'm most concerned about, Bill was her entire life after his Dad died, he doted on her and she'll miss him so much, you'll have to keep an eye on her. He had dinner with her most Friday nights and often slept over when she was a bit down, as you know, and she'll miss all of that."
That's the only thing I remember about Dad's funeral, everything else is just a blur, and so even knowing that it had to be done, I kept avoiding doing his stuff. But three months later, I had to start going through it, as like most men Dad had a very impressive collection of rusty old screws and bent nails, broken and blunt saws and screwdrivers, not to mention, "things that'll come in handy one day if I can get the parts to fix it."
Mum came to help but after continually saying, "oh don't throw that out please, it has memories for me," I decided to give up, and do it when she wasn't there.
After the first day of the clean up, I'd thrown out a fair bit. She must have noticed, but as she didn't know what it was that I was throwing out, didn't comment. On the second day, at the bottom of a cupboard under two dusty phone books, I found his old laptop in a bag.
Dad had said that it was lost two or three years ago, and went out and bought another one.
He was very proud of his new Mac, showing everyone who came for the first few weeks. He must've forgotten he'd put the old one there. When he'd passed forty he'd said he thought he was losing his mind and maybe he was.
It looked pretty clean, as it should be, in a bag and under the phone books. I took it out and to my surprise it started, how long had it been, two years, three?
At least two years I thought, and yet it fired up ok. I wasn't going to have it on when Mum came, so I closed it down, putting it back under the phone book, and meaning to come back for it later.
I remembered the next day and took it to my room that night. I started it up and looked through his files, there wasn't much on it but what was on was all fairly new, all in the last two and a half years. It was all porn, I laughed, so this was how he kept it from Mum, this was why he spent so much time in the garage, "doing stuff."
The next day we got the call that Grandma had died, she just didn't wake up that morning, the cause of death was old age but we all knew that she'd died of a broken heart, she missed her son so much. As Colin said "how do you bury your child, it's got to be the hardest thing you'll ever do". It was, and it proved too much for her, she just couldn't go on.
I forgot about the laptop for a couple of days, and when I remembered, returned to it.
On closer examination it wasn't all your standard porn in fact there were only three films on it, but all of the files, eighteen in total, were stories, erotic stories, and I thought, what the hell is Literotica anyway?
Two hours later I knew exactly what Literotica was, and I knew a lot more about my Father's furtive, secretive life.
The three films were all from the Taboo series dealing with incest, and the stories were all about incest also. The most astonishing thing though, was that the stories were all written by him, in the first person, about his relationship with his mother.
Different things they'd done, places they'd gone to, different places they'd made love, different ways they'd made love. They were all claimed as fictional, but it was easy to fit members of our family into the picture as I read the stories.
The feedback from his readers was very good as the stories were well written, I felt proud of some of the comments that were posted, he had a lot of loyal readers. But I mean, shit, my father had had a sexual relationship with his mother. That was a whack between the eyes, was it ever, and how was I going to deal with this?
I watched the Taboo movies and found that I was enjoying them more than I should, especially the first one where Barbara goes into her son Paul's room.
I played it several times telling myself that I was trying to better understand my father, but in fact the films were so well made, and so very erotic that they kept me intrigued for hours, so much so, that I copied them onto my computer to keep, along with his stories.
I looked through the family album and when you know what to look for, you can see it. In every photo he was holding her hand, his arm was around her, her arm was around him, her arm was through his and her breast was hard against his arm, or she was looking at him deeply with love in her eyes. Just a mother and her son photo? Yes absolutely, until I read his stories, I would've thought so also.
From the album I looked at photos of Mum when they got married, and saw a real resemblance between her and Dad's mother when she was younger. When I mentioned it to Mum, she laughed, saying "yes, it was something that was commented on at the time, she looked more likely to be my mum than his."
How long had this been going on anyway?
Over the course of a week I reread all of his stories several times, so that I almost knew them off by heart. I was able to judge that it'd been from a year after his Dad had died, right through until quite recently that they'd been involved. I must confess I found it changed completely my view of everyone else in my family, who else was having sex with whoever else, I tried to picture my father and his mother making love.
Every night now I had dreams about my Father making love with my Grandmother, which over several nights developed, until then Mum joined him in my dream. A few nights further on, and I joined the three of them at it. After that Mum started to be missing some nights, and then disappeared from the dreams completely, and then it was just Dad and I with Grandma.
The whole of this was like watching a movie filmed through a blue mist.
Dad and I seemed to be in conflict as to which one of us would make love to Grandma, I thought it was wrong for him to be making love with his mother, and tried to stop him by making love with her myself. When he won he turned and taunted me, and when I won, I turned to taunt him, but there was no one there.
On the times that I won, as I made love to her, Grandma put her arms around my neck squeezing as hard as she could with her mouth against my ear calling out, "I love you son, you're the best son a mother could ever have," and she looked into my eyes with the love only a mother could have for her son.
Even through the blue mist I could see and feel the emotions. Obviously she thought that I was Dad. These dreams went on for many weeks, almost every night. I had to start wearing bathers and bike pants to bed, as on the nights that I won and made love to Grandma, it turned into a 'wet' dream and I tried not to mess the bed.
Was I screwed up? You be the judge.
My biggest problem was how was I to deal with it, it's ok to say just ignore it, no one needs to know. But I knew, I was being affected by it and found it hard to handle, I'd worked for the same importers for five years, but found it hard to go about my normal business doing what I'd been doing for all of those years.
