choose or feel cheated

On Saturday, the extended family gathered to celebrate my Uncle’s 65th Birthday. It was wonderful to see all of my Dad’s brothers and my rather large collection of cousins. I had a fabulous time.

My cousins put together a slide show of my uncle’s life. It was fantastic to see his life unfold in front of us. Later, Big Sis went on and on about how cheated she felt in seeing uncle so involved in his children and grandchildren’s lives when our own parent’s are so distant. A few questions of clarification and Big Sis was on a roll — downhill. I guess I had a hard time listening to Big Sis rant about each parent’s role in her miserable childhood. Big Sis was no saint. In fact, if memory serves me correctly, she pushed my mother on many occasion with her defiance.

It took some time to pinpoint exactly why Big Sis’ claimed unfairness bugged me so. I realized that it wasn’t so much that Big Sis had yet to come to terms with the way our lives changed post-divorce. It’s sad that she still hasn’t gotten there yet, but that isn’t my problem. It’s hers. I tried to tell her that it is up to her to make the relationship into what she wants, but she couldn’t quite hear that.

Big Sis kept talking about being “cheated” out of having a good relationship with our father, yet she is not doing much to change that. For example, by the time I visited our father this afternoon, Big Sis still had not called him to wish him a Happy Father’s Day. You can bet that he did notice.

When I think of the same slide show, I think on what could have been for my children who will never even have the choice to call, or not, on Father’s Day. Their lives will unfold with him only as a memory — nothing more. And sure, I would have liked to have had the choice to grow old with him by my side instead of having that choice taken away from me. But I wasn’t complaining about how “cheated” I felt. I was glad to share in the happiness that is family. It is wonderful.

I left uncle’s birthday party with plenty of time to swing by the Summer Solstice party. I was partied out though: exhausted beyond belief. Instead, I came home and went straight to bed. I slept over 10 hours and awoke to find myself in a pool of melancholy and self pity, which I let myself wallow in for a bit longer before I made myself go to church.

I listened to each of the readings, took in as much meaning as I could, and knelt down to talk to Tom. Then, I thanked God for watching over for me. I asked him to help me know what direction to take on my journey. And when mass ended, I made my way to the front of the church to light a candle for the Tom and my stepfather.

While wiping the tears from my face, a couple approached me. Much to my surprise, the man recognized me from a luncheon that I attended earlier in the week. He works in my new department! Talk about a small world. I finished wiping the tears and graciously said hello to my new colleague. I learned a bit about his family: the baby in his arms, at only 4 months of age, now prepares for his 3rd cardiac surgery. I explained the reason for my tears. And by the time I walked away, the message was clear — I would be okay. Somehow, God would show me the way to get through this new set of hurdles — just like the ones before.

I can choose to wallow in self pity and feel cheated that my husband died, leaving me a widow and single mother in these challenging times, or I can thank God everyday that I am alive and well, and make the best of it. I choose the latter.