Just seeing her car (and now thinking about it) put butterflies in my stomach.
There Shane and I were, driving home from work together. There was an accident on the freeway, so I took a different route home. As we passed a certain bank, he said, "Hey, there's a black Sebring in the drive-up of blah blah bank." I looked at him in disbelief, then craned my neck around while we waited for the light to change. I was granted a vision of Herself, pulling out of the drive-through and heading for home.
I know all families have issues. Some of them are easily looked over, and others aren't. A few years back, a chasm broke up part of our family. It was all he said, she did, I'm mad, you suck. You know: typical, selfish reasons that seem really important and good until a few years have gone by and children have grown up and still no phone calls. No invites to Chrismas dinner or Easter brunch. Part of it makes our lives easier; after all, one less family to throw into hectic holidays. A few less birthday gifts to purchase.
But all the same, it sucks. It sucks walking across the street to the Sam's Club entry and looking into the eyes of individuals who you used to talk to on a daily basis, all the while wondering if they are secretly wishing they could run you over. Thinking about the fact that the child holding your hand has no idea that those people are related to him. Seeing a car at a bank and a glimpse of reddish hair and thinking of the life she is going back to. Getting butterflies in your stomach because it all rises up again in your heart how stupid and childish and pointless it all is.
And yet still being a party to it. Unwilling to mend it, because so much has passed and I know they won't forgive (forgive what, I want to scream, but I know they have their Reasons. I imagine them cradling them to their hearts at night, snug in their justification.) Remembering the time between, before we knew that we had been banished, wondering at the sudden silence of unreturned phone calls.
I know those butterflies are messages from my spirit, which is uncomfortable in having unresolved family issues. Which knows that families should be together, not strangers in the aisles of Sam's Club. But I'm weak, and I can't do it all. I can't apologize for things taken out of context or choices wrongly percieved.
So I'll just wait for the light to turn, and rehash it all again for a moment with the only other person who knows it all. Be grateful for the family who hasn't shut me out, who has returned my phone calls.
And when the light turns, I drive on home.
4 comments:
I know you probably don't want to hear this, but appologize.
You don't have to take ownership for anything, just say you are sorry she is hurting.
Life is too short to have our hearts have unhealed wounds. How would you feel if she was struck by a semi pulling out of the bank drive through and you never had a chance to repair your relationship. Is this something you want to live with for the rest of your life?
If not, take the first step. My bet is she will meet you half way.
Relationships are too precious to waste, so is time.
You are an awesome person, I'm glad you are my friend, and I can't imagine ANYONE not wanting you in their lives. She is probably just as scared to cross the bridge as you are, be the person who makes the first move.
You can even give her a gift wrapped box of band aids =0)
Or a box full of yellow items because yellow is for peace. Maybe: Yellow m&m's, yellow flowers, and yellow nic nacs all wrapped up in a yellow box with a yellow ribbon around it. You don't even really have to apologize but just present her with the gift and tell her that yellow means peace and it is time to move on.
My aunt did this for me once when she wigged out on me and really hurt my feelings because she had been down right mean. After she gave me that gift I knew I must mean a lot to her in order for her to go out of her way like that to make me feel better and there was no way I couldn't forgive her at that point. Now I remember the "yellow gifts" more often than I remember her calling me names and telling me I am going to grow up and be a loser.
Coincidentally, I started reading Linda Sexton's autobiography just today. She writes about her relationship with her mother (the poet Anne Sexton) and while she has not yet come out and said "I wish I could have made things better before my mom killed herself," I think she eventually will. I'm amazed at her capacity to even consider trying to forgive. In a way, it isn't even based on the quality of being forgiving, but on the deep need to have your mother love you.
OK, not exactly what you're experiencing, of course, but sort of similar. I know I don't know all of the details, but what I do know is that there is still the deep part of you that wants things to be OK. That has the need for your family (whatever side or shape) to love you back.
It is just hard, and I wanted you to know I know that, and I wish things were better. Big hugs!
I don't know any details, Becky, but you are the kind of person everyone needs in their life. I feel bad for whoever is missing out.
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