I don’t speak with my Mother these days.
I’m what you would call “estranged”.
Not “strange”- although many people would debate that fact.
No I mean I don’t see my mother nor partake in family events- my side of the family anyway.
I am what you would call estranged from my entire family.
Sad but true.
Thank Goodness Tom’s side of the family is fine with the exception of his Dad. That relationship came to a full stop several years ago at Thanksgiving.
Don’t you just love Holidays and Family?
We say hello on the phone when he calls and I answer or if Tom’s away and he has
To relate something to me- usually regarding his health or a visit to Sunnybrook Hospital in Toronto.
My Family’s problem with me?
I would say it’s because I am Gay and married. I am outspoken and demonstrative.
I am cut from a different cloth.
I march to a different drummer.
I like fine things. They like “things”.
That’s what they think anyway, I am sure of it.
Things have always been uneven with my Mum- especially since Tom and I were married- officially 6 years ago. My Brother never came to our wedding and has never talked about it. He may have seen pictures from my Mum.
The few Family members that did come only consented in the week prior to the event.
The only true “marriage” in my family has only ever been my sister’s and my Mother used to take great delight in bringing it up every year- like it was National holiday or something.
Tom and I have completed 27 years of our journey.
You would think that would count for something.
There is a history of this whole estranged thing.
My Mother never talked to her one sister for about 40 years. Another sister was seen sparingly- if at all, for a couple of decades too. So, you see there is a pattern of sorts for her behaviour.
I have come to terms with it. I hope she is well. I don’t know. I never hear. The last time I talked with her was on December 22nd 2011. I was trying to confirm plans to take her to Christmas Day breakfast at the Casino as we had done numerous times in the past.
She told me she didn’t have time for me. Her Christmas Schedule was full.
Come January she turned 90.
I got an e-mail from my sister. There was to be a tea.
No one of course checked with me ahead of time.
I couldn’t be there.
Tom and I would be away.
So I sent flowers on our behalf and never heard back.
So I have drawn a line and stepped over.
I have my own life to lead.
I am not a youngster.
I am an almost 61 year old man with a 90 year old Mother who could seemingly care less.
I have resolved myself to that fact. It took more than a year but I am at a happy, good place with it.
I know what you are thinking.
The next time when I see my Mother, I may be looking down at her inside a casket.
That is if my Family even bothers to tell me of her passing.
Therefore, Happy Mother’s Day to my Mum and all Mums.
I hope your “Day” will be happy and you are thankful for what you have and your family is thankful for what they have.
It’s the best any of us can do.