My siblings have very much seen themselves as being children of their mother and since I was not part of the circle and perhaps also because I found my father to be a better role model, I have tended to see myself as being outside of that circle. But, also and more specifically, my rights as a human being have been consistently denied to me; so I was coerced and had relatively limited choices.
The idea that I was mentally-and-morally ill may well have developed as a justification on the part of the subfamily for being able to work around my decisions and opinions on matters and so that they could pursue this mother-centric position. But, as a parent, my mother had responsibilities as to my wellbeing which did not empower her to exercise neglect; to have done so for the alleged greater good would have to have been a eugenics-inspired concept. And I believe that is a fair description of what I have lived through.
Another strand to the story is how Dennis Wheelton came to have changed his name to that form and, also, the logistics to the arguments that were held that he should have been able to inherit from my father as the other children had. That name change was imposed on my father (if that is the grammatically correct way of putting it): my mother and her father were involved in the process of ratification, it seems. I observe that, since I was an executor of my late father’s will, it was down to me to make a decision on whether it was possible to say that my father had ratified the name change, and I was not able to do that. In fact, the will was clear enough as to his wishes.
There are very close to six thousand words of content on these two sites and, also, there is my book. And I don’t propose at this time to extend matters to the point where an entire family saga is written or, indeed, rewritten. Indeed my objectives are limited to correcting the false impressions that wider members of society may acquire from the funeral announcement for my mother as it was earlier published and without my having been consulted. Unfortunately, also, the urn of my mother’s ashes was placed in a coffin which was buried, also, in my father’s grave. And, I find that to be out of keeping with my perception of how the family story had unfolded.
A cousin has tried to set up round-table discussions. But I don’t think it will surprise the reader if I say that it has been impossible to gain any in-family acceptance of my views, and I think I am extremely aware that my acting in a solo capacity is not the best approach. At the same time, however, I have to live with my life and all the stresses imposed by being an outsider within such a dysfunctional family; and I do not think it to be right that my father (and his memory) was disrespected so much.