I never grew up with an extended family. This was all thanks to my father. He was such an asshole to everyone that they pretty much gave up on him. It always bothered me. We used to get mixed messages from him. There were times when he spoke so lovingly about his siblings and parents. And then, everyone was 'out to get him'. I mean EVERYONE. Especially his own kids.
I remember when my Confirmation was approaching. I asked if he knew my Godparents' address. A few weeks went by and I was told they said "no" to my request that they would be my Confirmation Sponsors. My father pushed me to ask a complete stranger that he had just met to be my Sponsor. Sadly, Joe was killed in a drunk driving accident shortly after. I always felt horrible about how I resented having to ask him because I really did not know him. When he died, I remember feeling so guilty. I felt that my bad thoughts and feelings caused this to happen...somehow. Of course I felt this way. Anything bad that happened was always my fault. Just ask dear old Dad.
In June 1990, I was pretty much forced to telephone all of his and my mother's siblings to invite them to my graduation. I didn't want to, at first. They were just as much strangers as Joe was. But I did it in hopes of maybe reconnecting. I feared if I went in with a better attitude than I did with Joe, everything would be okay. After all, my poor treatment and attitude were why Joe was in that car in the first place.
They all said 'No'. It broke me. I resented my father even more than I already did.
At the same time, I remembered that my cousins were all about the same age as me, and were also probably graduating at the same time. After a long time of pouting in my room, listening to my Megadeth cassette, I felt an overwhelming feeling of empathy. First time ever, I think.
My father had some choice words about this. He would not let it go. I lost my empathy.
You see, even if you have the best intentions in your heart, some people make it so difficult for you to speak up or act upon it for fear of ridicule, and in my case, verbal and emotional abuse. Even physical, should it be necessary.
Who am I kidding? It was always necessary
Fast forward about 5/6 years. My fiancé and I are planning our wedding. Jimmy knew about my family nonsense, and still wanted to marry me...what a shock!
My mother-in-law asked for addresses from my father for invitations. I trusted that he gave them to her. In all honesty, I didn't really do much for my wedding. We were rushing to get married before my belly popped out :) Between working three jobs, and planning our wedding, I left the invites to my future mother-in-law.
A few weeks go by and MIL tells me that my father has not given her any addresses, and that she was willing to pay the postage for all of them...which she made herself, thankfully. He asked that instead, she give her the invitations, and he himself would get them sent, because he had a few personal notes he wanted to add. She obliged.
No one responded.
I was f*cking furious over this.
In anger, I wrote a very hateful letter to my uncle. In return, he and my cousin responded, and rightfully so. I let them have the last word because if I wrote another letter, it would be even worse.
After my son was born, I really started taking a long, hard look at how thing really were. Whenever I held that little baby boy in my arms and looked into his eyes, I couldn't imagine passing on certain rituals; the ridicule, the abuse, the blame on everyone around them...even my own child. I refused. I made the decision that it ended that day!
The letter I sent my uncle hung over my head, though. I had read his response, and my cousins. I read them over and over again. The more I read, the more I reflected on the crap I was told to me by someone who claimed they loved me. I ended up tossing the letters out, because holding them meant I would just feel worse. I figured someday, I would put myself out there and apologize to my uncle for hurting him. I didn't mean to...really.
I always believed there would be enough time. It was a new experience for me to actually own up to the times I was wrong. In addition, I was absolutely shy and unsure of myself. Besides, I was so horribly mean.
When my uncle passed, I really wanted to go to his funeral and see the family to apologize. I knew that face to face, I could do it. And with Jimmy by my side, I had someone to lean on. Someone who believed in me. Someone who could absolutely vouch for me.
The obituary never named my father as a brother. Everyone else was listed but him. I found that hilarious! I found out later it was unintentional, but still...bravo! I went to sign the online guest book, and saw a rather peculiar message that was directed at MY UNNAMED FATHER being sent condolences from some random people in New Jersey......WHAT??????
I immediately contacted the proper people running the page and said that the person from NJ was a family member trying to cause the family more grief, and if they wanted to speak to me, to call me, and left my number. They immediately emailed me back and thanked me for keeping an eye out for the family, took the posting down and I never heard anything else about it. After that, one of my brothers left a message on my machine explaining that our father wanted all of us to attend the funeral as a family. That was when I decided not to go, because I knew that if my father pulled some online stunt to hurt the family, he had other plans to make the family feel uncomfortable and only hurt them more. Against my husband's suggestion, I did not attend the funeral.
At that time, MySpace was popular and I decided to reach out the only way I was comfortable. I searched for my cousin that I hurt to apologize and give my condolences. She surprisingly accepted my friend request and we started emailing back and forth. It was nice. We made a 'date' to my family (husband and kids) to meet with her and her family. I was quite excited.
The very first thing that came out of all of their mouths was "We don't have any money to give." WTF? That's not what this was about. This was about family, not desperate times or a need to get dug out of a hole we put ourselves in. However, I understood, since that was the only way my father contacted any of his family was when he dug himself so deep and exhausted all of his financial resources, that rather than going out and getting a job, he became a beggar. Or he made Mom beg.
I thought things were going well, until dear old dad decided to harass one of my cousins at her place of business on Father's Day. She knew that he did it on purpose, and quite frankly, I know that as well. He will always deny this, but even when he 'accidentally' hurts someone's feelings, he does it in such a way, that you just know he's fully aware.
I was then pretty much dismissed by my extended family that I just started to get to know. I was hurt, but I understood. It still hurts.
Then, suddenly, out of the blue, I go to the store to get a few things to bring home, and I hear someone yelling for me. I usually don't respond, thinking they were calling another Jennifer. But they weren't. It was me. And it was one of my cousins. Someone who dismissed me because of something that my father did to her sister. Someone who simply cannot be a friend to me because of my father. Nothing I personally did, and something that I did not condone, but something HE did...not me. But I was connected to him, so I became shit.
She runs up and hugs me like we're family. I had a million thoughts racing in my head. One thought was to just say, "F*CK YOU" and walk away. But that's not the person I have grown into. I may have been raised that way, but that's not me.
We had some polite conversation briefly, and I smiled and nodded when appropriate, but the entire time, I was just so resentful. I hated her and the rest of them for abandoning me. And not once did she ask how I handled my mother's passing.
We said our goodbyes, and I cried. I cried like a baby. But maybe it's for the best. If they see my father in me when they look into my eyes, that is their problem, not mine. I am not him. I am me. I discipline my kids with love. I support my kids on anything they need. I don't dismiss the special education needs because it would make the family 'look bad'. I make sure they get the services necessary to get them where they need in life. I embrace their humor. I enjoy my kids.
And the extended family can go f*ck themselves.
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