For these past nearly 5 years, I have worked very hard to keep my mouth shut, to hold quietly the pain that became my continuous companion following a family member's decision to "take me out to the back shed and whip me," bringing along everyone in the family, and watching as I writhed in pain.
These nearly five years have been the worst, the most painful, the most unbelievable, and the most revealing of the character of others. The behavior that I am referring to was a direct hit that eventually brought my marriage to a halt, even though the hit did not come from my husband. It served to stir up childhood wounding and trauma, to the degree that there was not an agreeable solution to be found.
Although it appeared that things might have righted themselves following the death of my sweetheart of 46 years, it was only fleeting. There has been discord between members of the family that really haven't had discord before, and it is the same family member that has stirred up more trouble. Gone are the happy-go-lucky get togethers that we had always been accustomed to.
This was the first Christmas that I had to figure out and pay for all of the gifts for the family. It is something that Mike and I always worked on together, and even when we were divorced by Christmas of 2020, we still combined forces, choosing gifts, and split the cost 50/50. Although my name was on the tags for gifts, this family member and family thanked Mike profusely for their gifts and said nothing to me. They mailed me a small gift, a mug with a box of tea, an obligatory offering to appease their consciences.
Christmas of 2021 was oh so difficult. Mike and I were much too emotional during the holidays of 2020 to go through our holiday bins. Neither of us used any of the Christmas things we had collected over the 4+ decades. We determined that we would wait a year and go through everything then, when our emotions were less raw. By the time Christmas of 2021 rolled around, Mike had been gone for 3 months. Not only did we not go through our things, I could not even bring myself to put a single decoration up in my home; not the small tree I purchased last year, not the stockings I had purchased for me and the pups, not the little nativity that I had found, etc. Not one thing; I simply could not do it.
I did however decide I wanted to do something nice for the family, after all we'd been through with Mike's death. I settled on play tickets to the Hale Theater for the girls and their spouses/guest, with dinner and dessert gift cards so they could enjoy a whole evening all together. I went looking for individual pizza slice boxes to print out and put the restaurants's logo on, to the ice cream store to get containers to decorate and hold the gift cards for dessert. I had a really difficult time figuring out what would make sense to hold the play tickets, and settled on theater-sized boxes of Dots candy. Those were hard to find! Mike LOVED Dots, so I oh-so-gently opened the cellophane wrap and box end, slipping the tickets inside, labeling the box "(Hale) Theater Sized" and carefully sealing it all back up. It took a lot of time and effort, but I was in need of a chance to use some creativity.
I hunted around, looking for a "memorial" ornament to give the girls that would hold a picture of Mike. I found some online, they were sturdy and nice, and it took me forever to finally get a headshot the right size to fit into it. I had purchased plaques for their homes that mentioned a loved one in heaven. I bought socks for each of them, and a nice toy for the dog (our family likes to give each other gifts for our pets.)
I wanted a horse theme for the grands (because I was not allowed to use any of Mike's clothes to make bears or quilts or pillows, etc.) I spent much too much time hunting online for soft fleece blankets, each one unique, and ran into many difficulties. In the end, I spent more than double due to getting things that weren't quite right (very thin fleece that was more of a wall hanging, etc., and could not be returned.) I stewed over the blankets; they were different sizes and types, and I didn't know how I would decide which boys would get which one. I also got different horse ornaments, hoping it would be representative of Papa. I wrapped the blankets with a little note taped to it that said, "Consider this a warm hug from Papa."
I made little candy sleighs for the grands, again taking much longer than I'd anticipated, costing much more than I planned, but I enjoyed it and hoped they would too. I settled on taping a number to each sleigh, and putting a number of each bag with the ornaments and each blanket, so they could choose a sleigh and whatever number was behind Santa corresponded with the packages they would open. I hoped they would appreciate that I was trying to bring Papa into Christmas, even though he could not be with us.
Then after Christmas, Covid came for a visit in the family. Three of the eleven of us did not get it, but the rest did. So we never gathered. On Christmas day, I got no greeting from this family, so I kind of figured that things had shifted back to the pre-Mike's death behaviors and attitudes that had prevailed for nearly 5 years. Following Christmas, the same family member as mentioned earlier, sent an email with a fairly curt-sounding request for something they wanted me to pay for. Because I had read the will and consulted with an attorney, I knew that it was not mine to pay, and I very kindly replied with that explanation. The only response I got was having my access removed from all of the shared documents the family worked on throughout the funeral planning and beyond. It didn't feel good, but I knew that was the intent.
The Christmas gifts were delivered via other family members. The other families made mention of the gifts and were excited. The other one said nothing. They sent a gift bag to a family member that would see me and be able to give it to me. I opened it and it was box of Hawaiian Host candy, although no one had traveled to Hawaii. I figured it was regifted and was obligatory, just as the year before had been. (I won't even reveal where those candies went, how I very ceremoniously dealt with them, but I don't like putting unkind/mean-spirited "vibrations" or "energy" into my body, so I wasn't about to eat them.) They were intended as an insult, and their value was less than what I had paid for the gift for their dog.
A few days later, I was in need of some documents from Mike's files, documents that belong to me, and I had repeatedly asked for them over a month's time, and eventually ended up having another family member also make a plea for me to get them. They were pertinent to my financial planning for the future and I was meeting with my advisor. I got a phone call from a family member, wanting clarification of which of the documents was most urgently needed. I explained. I also got a "We owe you a thank you for the gifts," even though that would not have been mentioned if there hadn't been a reason to make the phone call. We discussed the horse blankets, and when I asked who had gotten a bigger one, the response was, "They were all . . . too small." The tone of voice told me all I needed to know. They were not up to snuff, not appreciated, and will likely end up at the thrift store or used as the dog's bed.
As a daughter, I cannot fathom treating my mother or my inlaws in the way that I have been treated, and continue to be treated. There is something so hateful and deliberate about the actions that are taken, or good things not said or done that would be usual in a family. Mike was at least a buffer, and would also let me know when the grands were involved in a concert or sports games. I will now not be informed or invited at all. Grandparent alienation.
I am sad for myself, but even more than that, I am heartbroken that family members of mine can harbor such hate in their hearts. They somehow justify being cruel. They fling blame at me as if I am solely responsible for their happiness or unhappiness. People who know me well know that I am not an unkind person. I have my faults, but unkindness is not one of them. And it was never acceptable in our home. Mike and I used to wonder, over those four years prior to his death, how on earth someone in our own family could justify such cruel attitudes and behaviors. They were never aimed at Mike though, only me.
I pray for them. I pray for my own heart. I don't want to be filled with judgment and anger. I don't want to constantly have to protect myself either. I cannot change another's perception, only they can do that. I have given and given and given, and it has gone unappreciated and unthanked. My consolation is that God knows my heart. God knows my efforts to show love. God knows me, and that matters so much more than the judgment of mortals.
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