Let's See if I Can Remember How to Use This Thing
While I mostly use Facebook nowadays, I needed to write something a bit more personal. But I also needed to get it out there. So, if you can handle family drama, read on.
First, my cousins. As most kids, I had two sets of cousins. My mother's side and my father's side. None lived close by. My mother's side lived in Connecticut, my father's in Berkeley, CA, Medford, OR, and Jasper, OR. I rarely saw the cousins on my mom's side, but the visits I had were always good and I still have fond memories of them. On the other hand, I saw at least one set of cousins per year from my father's side. Oh how I used to enjoy seeing them. I loved going to Jasper, for my cousins had horses and how I loved to ride. Going to Medford meant seeing my hippie cousins, and they were always a hoot. And the cousins in Berkeley were the rebels, always introducing me to subversive literature and new music. So, growing up, I had what I thought were good times.
Later in life I ended up moving to Seattle. Living there was one of my cousins. We met up and were getting along fine, then she dropped a bombshell on me. "We never liked you and your sister coming up to visit." I was stunned. I was like, why, what had we done? Nothing she said. She just didn't like us. And it started me thinking. Looking back on my visits to my various cousins, I started to remember some of the shitty things they pulled. Like one of them always used to challenge me to a boxing match and would then usually end up pummeling me, as he was three years older. Or like the times during family gatherings I would catch some of them planning something, like going to a movie, and once I would let them know of my interest, they'd say they weren't going. Then later on I'd find out they did. Since leaving the home, I tried a few times to contact some of them, but rarely would I get a reply. And if I did, it was obvious they weren't interested. And none of the others ever tried to reach me. I haven't spoken to any of those cousins in almost fifteen years.
My father passed away almost two years ago. We didn't have the greatest relationship growing up. He was the old-style of father, who kept his emotions in check. I know he loved me, but he never hugged me, never expressed his feelings. He was physically there, but emotionally distant. After leaving the house, we did manage to become a little closer. But then he got married to a woman in Canada and moved up there. And then a few years ago he became ill. Due to my financial status, I was unable to visit him before he died. Just wasn't possible. After his death, his wife sent me a few of his personal things, which I was grateful to have. But I also wanted a copy of his will and a certified death certificate. But I wanted to give his widow some time to grieve. So, I waited awhile. After a year, I contacted her, asking her for those things. She asked me why I wanted them. Well, the death certificate should be obvious, and a copy of the will, well, because I wanted to know what my father's final words to this world were. She never responded. So a few months later I asked again. I had managed to find out how to get a death certificate, so I just wanted a copy of the will. This time, I got a call. Not from his wife, but from her daughter, who began to berate me for not helping out with any costs associated with my father's death. I had offered. Not one of them ever contacted me to let me know how much or where to send it. And she also refused to send me a copy of the will. I was told that my father had no assets when he died. I didn't care about that. So, because I was apparently a rotten step-son, I never got to see my father's final words.
And my sister. Growing up, I guess we had some serious sibling rivalry, as we were not close. After I left home, I tried to maintain some sort of contact. And I thought we got along ok. But I was in Texas, she was pursuing her education in Southern California, with many trips overseas, so physical contact was rare. I invited her to my wedding, but she declined. She then got married and didn't even bother to tell me. Last time I saw her was in 2002, when we took a vacation and visited her and her family in Santa Barbara. After that, communication became even more sporadic than it had been previously. And then along came Facebook. And one day, I found her on there, so I sent a friend request. After a few weeks had gone by, I noticed that she had apparently declined the invitation. So I sent another one. It was declined. So I sent a third. It to, was declined. So I found her work email address and asked if she was going to ignore me forever. Yeah, I'll admit I was getting a bit frustrated by now. The reply back astonished me. I was pretty much told that she had no interest in me or my family. So I fired off a probably not-too-nice response. Which got me another berating and I was also called a bully. There has been no communication since.
This New Year's Eve past, I was attending a party where the host would write something down on paper that they would like to get let go of and then throw it in the fire. He offered the pen and paper to me and I wrote, "Family that is no longer family." For since my dad had died, I had been thinking about all of the above nearly every day. I threw it in the fire. Since that day, I have thought about it less and less. And then today, yet again because of Facebook, I found out that my sister is back on Facebook. I ponder if I should say something. A big part of me wants to understand the reasons of her distance. Another part just wants to let go and get on with my life.
So, somewhere along the way, I lost my family, extended and close. It may have been all my fault. Maybe there is something about me that just turned them all off. I'm not willing to discount that possibility. But whether or not is was my fault, it still hurts.
I know I need to move on.
First, my cousins. As most kids, I had two sets of cousins. My mother's side and my father's side. None lived close by. My mother's side lived in Connecticut, my father's in Berkeley, CA, Medford, OR, and Jasper, OR. I rarely saw the cousins on my mom's side, but the visits I had were always good and I still have fond memories of them. On the other hand, I saw at least one set of cousins per year from my father's side. Oh how I used to enjoy seeing them. I loved going to Jasper, for my cousins had horses and how I loved to ride. Going to Medford meant seeing my hippie cousins, and they were always a hoot. And the cousins in Berkeley were the rebels, always introducing me to subversive literature and new music. So, growing up, I had what I thought were good times.
Later in life I ended up moving to Seattle. Living there was one of my cousins. We met up and were getting along fine, then she dropped a bombshell on me. "We never liked you and your sister coming up to visit." I was stunned. I was like, why, what had we done? Nothing she said. She just didn't like us. And it started me thinking. Looking back on my visits to my various cousins, I started to remember some of the shitty things they pulled. Like one of them always used to challenge me to a boxing match and would then usually end up pummeling me, as he was three years older. Or like the times during family gatherings I would catch some of them planning something, like going to a movie, and once I would let them know of my interest, they'd say they weren't going. Then later on I'd find out they did. Since leaving the home, I tried a few times to contact some of them, but rarely would I get a reply. And if I did, it was obvious they weren't interested. And none of the others ever tried to reach me. I haven't spoken to any of those cousins in almost fifteen years.
My father passed away almost two years ago. We didn't have the greatest relationship growing up. He was the old-style of father, who kept his emotions in check. I know he loved me, but he never hugged me, never expressed his feelings. He was physically there, but emotionally distant. After leaving the house, we did manage to become a little closer. But then he got married to a woman in Canada and moved up there. And then a few years ago he became ill. Due to my financial status, I was unable to visit him before he died. Just wasn't possible. After his death, his wife sent me a few of his personal things, which I was grateful to have. But I also wanted a copy of his will and a certified death certificate. But I wanted to give his widow some time to grieve. So, I waited awhile. After a year, I contacted her, asking her for those things. She asked me why I wanted them. Well, the death certificate should be obvious, and a copy of the will, well, because I wanted to know what my father's final words to this world were. She never responded. So a few months later I asked again. I had managed to find out how to get a death certificate, so I just wanted a copy of the will. This time, I got a call. Not from his wife, but from her daughter, who began to berate me for not helping out with any costs associated with my father's death. I had offered. Not one of them ever contacted me to let me know how much or where to send it. And she also refused to send me a copy of the will. I was told that my father had no assets when he died. I didn't care about that. So, because I was apparently a rotten step-son, I never got to see my father's final words.
And my sister. Growing up, I guess we had some serious sibling rivalry, as we were not close. After I left home, I tried to maintain some sort of contact. And I thought we got along ok. But I was in Texas, she was pursuing her education in Southern California, with many trips overseas, so physical contact was rare. I invited her to my wedding, but she declined. She then got married and didn't even bother to tell me. Last time I saw her was in 2002, when we took a vacation and visited her and her family in Santa Barbara. After that, communication became even more sporadic than it had been previously. And then along came Facebook. And one day, I found her on there, so I sent a friend request. After a few weeks had gone by, I noticed that she had apparently declined the invitation. So I sent another one. It was declined. So I sent a third. It to, was declined. So I found her work email address and asked if she was going to ignore me forever. Yeah, I'll admit I was getting a bit frustrated by now. The reply back astonished me. I was pretty much told that she had no interest in me or my family. So I fired off a probably not-too-nice response. Which got me another berating and I was also called a bully. There has been no communication since.
This New Year's Eve past, I was attending a party where the host would write something down on paper that they would like to get let go of and then throw it in the fire. He offered the pen and paper to me and I wrote, "Family that is no longer family." For since my dad had died, I had been thinking about all of the above nearly every day. I threw it in the fire. Since that day, I have thought about it less and less. And then today, yet again because of Facebook, I found out that my sister is back on Facebook. I ponder if I should say something. A big part of me wants to understand the reasons of her distance. Another part just wants to let go and get on with my life.
So, somewhere along the way, I lost my family, extended and close. It may have been all my fault. Maybe there is something about me that just turned them all off. I'm not willing to discount that possibility. But whether or not is was my fault, it still hurts.
I know I need to move on.