I don’t
speak with my Mother these days.
I’m
what you would call “estranged”.
No.
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.
Too
bad.
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.
