Diane Denmead

Diane Denmead.

My aunt.

My mother's sister-in-law.

After not letting Mom know that her husband, my mother's brother--Harrell Denmead--had died for a year, following years of silence and not permitting my cousins, her two sons Denny and Dean, any contact with any of us since they were pre-teens, wrote my dying mother a note sharing her regret that they, ".....were not friends," tearing my dying mom up for days.

Fuck you, Diane.

Fuck your snobbishness.

Fuck your cruelty.

Fuck your love of money.

You are not worthy of one moment of Mom's attention.

Fuck you, Diane, for making my mother cry trying to figure out what she did to make you treat her so badly since you met.

Fuck you for making her revisit every shitty Diane-related moment when she has so few moments remaining.

Fuck you for managing to estrange my mom from her brother.

Just fuck you.

I'm not as kind or forgiving as my mother.

You are not worthy to clean the bottoms of her shoes.


  1. It was with great sadness and a pained heart that I read your post. I'm sorry to hear of your mothers passing.
    I cannot believe that the above is a reflection of the kind of woman my Aunt was. Nor can I believe that she would support this type of a message in honor of her memory.
    What ever differences our parents had I can only honor my late father by celebrating his life.
    I'm sorry that your pain has hardened your heart to the point of posting a blog on the internet that any one of my children, nephews or niece could read about their grandmother which is so offensive.
    If this is a representation of a cousin I've never gotten to know then I'm better off not knowing you.
    I wish your family peace in this difficult time and will pray for you all.

  2. No, that blog post is most certainly not a reflection of my mom. She was kind. And brave. And gentle. Me, I'm all of those things, but having played with mostly boys all my life, don't take insult lightly or without reply.

    The above words are absolutely a true reflection of my perception of a lifetime of outrage that Diane deeply and repeatedly hurt my mother, and finally with her last catty note, pushed the knife even deeper into mother's heart when mother had only days to live.

    In what moral universe is it OK to keep one's brother's death a secret for a year? Did she really forbid you boys any contact with my family? Did you boys really follow her instructions?

    You're correct that Mom never would have in that way; but I'm a scrappy little thing and I'm pushing back with the only weapon I have as a woman: words. Public words. How else would I find you or my Aunt (whom I've not seen since I was 9 or 10 years old and has kept her address secret) except this way. Given the emotional abuse your family is proven capable of inflicting, I don't feel safe meeting in person with you yet. A public digital place seems just right.

    I'm feisty and pushing back against 50 years of bullshit divisive meanness.

    My heart's not hard. I'm pissed some chick deliberately and repeatedly hurt my mom. Moreover, I'm old enough, smart enough and big enough to loudly call even my Aunt Diane out as a bully.

    In the long run what will matter to your legacy is not that family imperfections were aired here, but how the imperfections are handled thereafter.

    Will defending what your mother did to mine be your legacy? Is deciding that I and my family are still not worth knowing because we called you out with some choice words your legacy?

    What would you think of me if I did NOT here and now say that what's been going on between our families is unacceptable; that your mother's note to my mother and the hiding of Hal's death were unacceptable.

    I'm tired of the secrets and the hurting.

    And make no mistake, I'm personally still pretty darned angry that Diane managed to steal an entire day I might have otherwise pleasantly spent with my mom when she had little more than a week to live.

    I've only seen my mom cry twice. That day was one.


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