Good riddance to bad rubbish

The Sperm Donor, 1929 - 2004

At some point today, the funeral of the individual whose sperm fertilised one of my Mum's eggs to produce yours truly takes place. The fact that I don't know the precise time, location or even if it's being buried or cremated reveals that I'm not exactly overcome with grief. Far from it; I loathed the individual in life, hadn't spoken to it in over twenty years, and sincerely believe that few (if any) genuine tears will be shed at its passing.

If reading this post leaves you wondering how someone like me can feel so much hatred for a "parent", then I'm relieved for you. In an ideal world, I hope we would all feel total and unconditional love for our parents. But I don't hold with the notion that they are deserving of unconditional love and respect just *because* they are our parents. "Respectable is as respectable does", as Forrest Gump might have put it. As a non-Christian, I don't feel bound by the fifth commandment, either. To my mind, respect, honour and love come as a consequence of actions and examples; when a person shows neither, but instead behaves (consistently and remorselessly) in a way that deserves disgust, loathing and utter contempt... well, we reap as we sow.

So no, I will not be mourning today. Such mourning as was necessary (for one parent-child relationship that I never had) I went through years ago. Today, I feel nothing but relief that an enduring drain on my Mum's life is now at an end. And fervently hope that she can live the remainder of her life with the contentment and happiness that I believe she has been denied up to now. And I know I'm not alone in wishing her that happiness.

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