Life on the short end of the stick...

I'm used to getting shafted out of positive things that are due to come my way... I've come to accept it as a large part of my existence, and a big factor in being the person I've become. (A moderate optimist with a bit of a cynical streak that keeps me grounded.)

Once again, I'm finding that I'm being forced to accept the short end of the stick, and all I can say is that I saw it coming from a long way off, but it still really pisses me off, and leaves me with a sense of embitterment.

Here's the background on the story: My grandmother (the one who is still alive, though in the active process of dying, and presently lacking a lot of her faculties,) has collected a certain kind of figurines for as long as I can remember. These figurines have a hefty price tag per item, and grandma has amassed quite a collection over the years. It was established many years ago, that as the oldest granddaughter, I was set to inherit them upon the arrival of grandma's demise.

Fast forward to a little over three months ago. My uncle, who was battling cancer moved into my grandma's house, because grandma was living in a nursing home, and it was all on one floor so it was easier for him to handle in a weakened condition after chemotherapy. When he moved in, it was conversationally established that the figurines were all still there. They were stored away, and out of view, but they were there. In early January, my uncle passed away, leaving the house unoccupied once again.

Fast forward again to this week. I get a phone call from my father.

Dad: "Hey, kiddo, I've got a question for you."
Liz: "Ok, shoot."
Dad: "When you were home, do you remember seeing those figurines?"
Liz: "Uhh... no. I wasn't aware I was supposed to be looking for them."
Dad: "Oh... Well, since your grandma is in the nursing home, we were going to go ahead and sell her house, so we started going through everything and packing it up, and we've looked everywhere, and we can't find them."
Liz: "You can't find them?"
Dad: "Yeah, I don't know where they are... When your uncle was here, they were all stored in that hutch by the front door... And now we can't find them... We don't know where they are."
Liz: "Uh-huh... I see... Well, I don't know where they are, because I was only over there for about 20 minutes, with you and Jim, and I never saw them."
Dad: "Hmm... Well, I don't know what to tell you kiddo!"
Liz: "Yeah, well, nothing really to say..."

Now here's the thing. I know that certain members of my family read this page. I want to establish here and now that I'm not openly accusing anyone of stealing the figurines. However, I am not surprised that they have suddenly "gone missing" and I have my suspicions about where they went, and I'm more than a little sure that Uncle Jim didn't take them with him... Largely because there was only so much room in that casket.

If they should ever turn up, (and I don't think they will... But if they do, it won't be for a long time,) they would rightfully be mine according to the will, but the cynic in me says that I won't ever see them. I am being shafted out of the one thing that I was due to inherit from my grandmother, and I'm not at all surprised... Though I am offended and appalled that it happened, I'm not surprised.