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Chapter 8

My mum has a brother, I don’t like him. I can’t trust what my mum has told me about him. But I know that he didn’t care about his mum, when she was dying he only came on to the funeral to collect the money. After that he left everything for my mum to sort out. She gave her money to my sister and the things my grandma left for me; I was told that my mum’s brother took. It doesn’t matter really it’s just stuff, but what is important is how one is going about things. My mum’s methods are wrong from a moral point of view and he is a dickhead. I hope I don’t have to face him again, and if I do I hope that he doesn’t talk as I will probably put him on his arse.

My grandma used to live in the south of Sweden when we lived at house number 17 and 32. I and my mum were down there to visit occasionally. We used to go to Denmark from there for day trips. My mum used to take me to the Zoo and the amusement park. I liked those trips a lot. We also went to Christiania, a hippie ‘free zone’ in Copenhagen. I don’t remember much of that, but I do remember that a huge guy tried to sell me hash. I also remember that we went to a Pub that was so full of smoke that you couldn’t see the next table. My mum bought some hash before we left the free zone. Another time when we were visiting my grandma, they had an argument after I went to bed. Later that night the guy who later would break our kitchen windows with his fist, came to my grandma´s house. I don’t know what he was doing there because it’s quite a distance between grannies’ home and were we lived. Anyway, I was pretending sleeping and I heard my mum and the guy talking about starting taking drugs again. I would hear her admitting to have taken drugs before, but I would only hear her admitting to being a junkie two more times. Once when she again didn’t know I was hearing and once when she didn’t have no choice.

My grandma was clever with her money. She invested in properties and she had cash flow from pension as she used to work as a pharmacist. She dated artists (painters) when she was younger and after she got divorced, she again had two relationships both with artists. She had some nice paintings in her house, abstract art. I liked it and it inspired me. She used to take me travelling. We went to Spain, Belgium, France Denmark and Germany. I liked France the best as she showed her full potential in the country she loved and she showed me all the good art related sites.

Later she moved to Karlstad were we lived. She bought a flat in an upcoming area and she would buy another four properties in this area. She died in hospital of cancer. I came back from UK for three months to stay with her during this time.

When I was about four years old, I started to visit my dad on my own. My parents had a divorce when I was too young to remember. I can’t remember if there was a gap of a few years before I saw him again after the divorce, it feels like it was. Anyway, my first memories of my dad were good ones. I visited him at a drug rehabilitation place. We went on camping trips with his mates, travelling by canoe and sleeping in tents. We lighted up campfire and grilled food every night. Being in the wilderness automatically licenses me to carry a knife; witch is a big thing when you’re out in the wild with your dad. On this trip we survived on whatever we could get from the river and dad’s rucksack. It was one of my favourite holidays.

I began my interest in weapons in my early age, collecting weapons as a kid. It started with knifes, my uncle gave me nice knifes from Finland, the Mecca for knife users. I had a lot of different knifes, one Rambo survival knife, renown in Sweden for its sharpness and red wood handle, I had one bowie knife, one stiletto, one butterfly and a whole range of knifes of different sizes with no particular fame, but often with a nicely decorated holster. The knife collection expanded with other weapons like whips, ninja stars, and nunchuks a sword and an African spear and revolvers. I got the African spear from the guy that renovated house number 32.

My dad met his new wife to-be at that rehabilitation place. Some time later they moved to the north of Sweden and I started to visit them there on my own. I had to take a 40 min flight to Stockholm, then change flight to the final destination another hour or so away. I liked travelling on my own and I always had nice air stewardess who took good care of me. I had to ware a A4 sized plastic thing around my neck with all my details, in case I got lost. After a while I was a familiar face to the flight crew. I liked it at my dad’s new place. I fast made a lot of friends. Some older guy thought me games how to get kisses from girls. He taped bin liners over a big slide in a children’s playground, and then invited boys and girls to the exiting new event in the evening. As it was all dark inside the slide the girls were a bit nervous to enter. The warm summer evening created a nice romantic atmosphere so a hug and a kiss made the girls feel better and we all had a good time with this slide tunnel. It only worked as a treat one evening by the way. This older boy also showed me Rambo and other films. He was a good friend to me even if I was that young. There was another family that lived across the street from my dad. The boy in that family was hanging around me and my other friends but I don’t have any particular memory of him except that he was always there and

he had a sister. This sister had a friend and she became the first love of my life and she had long dark hair. That is sadly all I remember about her appearance. However this feature has been an important trait in the choice of other girlfriends later in my life. The strongest memory of time spent with this girl was when I was about to see her for the last time. Me and my dad was at some friends of his house and the two girls were there. We didn’t do much at first but closer to the time when it was time to say goodbye the girls decided that we should play in the dark. Basically the lights were switched off and the door to the bedroom we were in was closed and a duvet was thrown over me and my girl and another duvet over the other girl and a boy. Then we did what came natural in our own private space. I got my first kiss there, about 10 minutes later we left and I never saw that girl again. This traumatised me for many years. About 7 or 8 years later we had a new girl in our class, it was the friend to my first kiss. Our friend ship had faded away and I tried to talk about her friend but it didn’t lead anywhere. I tried again a few years later but she was not interested in sharing any information. Not even my dad or his second wife showed any interest in my questions. And when I couldn’t find any info on the internet either I finally gave up, this was about 3 years ago. Not that I think it would be amazing to meet up and talk about old memories I just wanted to find out what happened to her.

To be continued, the author is the son of former criminal father

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