Blood is Blood
Last night I tossed and turned until the covers were off my bed. When I awoke the next morning I felt sick and nauseous. Perhaps it was a sign of what was to come. An awkward day that would leave me wearing a mask of happiness as I created the facade that everything was ok. I have become accustomed to keeping my feelings turned off. I put on my make-up and study my freshly dyed hair. Today I will see many faces that I have not seen in a very long time. Today I will face those who will forever be my enemy. As my mother sits in the salon chair for a haircut and style. I pop a CBD gummy in my mouth and begin wishing the day away. Time ticks away as we get ready for my aunt and uncle’s fifth wedding anniversary.
Any buzz that I may be feeling is overshadowed by the anxiety of getting my mother who has Parkinson’s disease in and out of my car. As she complains my poor brother is trying to get the wheelchair in the trunk while my son talks a mile a minute. I shudder when we arrive at the party. If I could turn around and run I would but I know that I have to keep moving. I get inside the doors and immediately spot my father off to the side. My son and I sneak over to the corner. I spot my one uncle talking to a couple of guys and for a brief minute it’s hard for me to believe that it’s him. He’s gotten old but his eyes are still the same. He is the uncle I can never forgive. The uncle who once put my family through hell. Maybe he changed or maybe deep down he is still the same.
I finally spot my cousin and his new wife who are both living the good life in New York City. Both have good paying jobs and are faring a lot better than I am. In fact every single one of my cousins appears to be faring better. I mean at least they aren’t living at home with a parent. Thankfully it’s just him and his sister in attendance because they are the only cousins I get along with. It never used to be that way. Once upon a time I used to run and play with all of my cousins. There is a total of seven and I only know what has been happening to five of them. The other two keep themselves hidden and that’s alright by me. I never got along with the one cousin who was the same age as me. She made my life a living hell when we shared the same classroom. I never understood why she despised me and I doubt I ever will.
Three of the cousins are on my dad’s side and we most certainly do not speak to one another. It’s as if we are strangers and always have been. Sometimes I find myself longing for the days when we were young and actually speaking to one another but then I realize that we all had to grow up. Though my son is the first great-grandchild on both my mother and father’s side he doesn’t even recognize his own cousins. At sixteen he is much older than the other kids and doesn’t have a desire to really get to know them nor do they have a desire to get to know him. I guess you could say that not being invited to certain gatherings caused a huge rift in our family.
Some may say it happened after my parents divorced when I was sixteen but really there were cracks forming long before that. The cracks began the moment my late grandfather passed away and then grew larger with each passing year. Now both sets of grandparents are gone and the next generation is split apart. I try to keep it together the best I can but I almost feel like I am being judged. I only work part-time on the weekends caring for my mother while doing freelance writing off to the side. Some may consider my publications a success but I envy their fancy careers, romantic partners and independent lives. After all I am a single mom who along with my super moody son had to move in with my dad three years ago. Those years of having my own place and a wonderful career as a news reporter are long gone. I find myself in an endless loop of depression and anxiety. I want to know what it feels like to be normal. To not feel trapped.
As I watch the aunt and uncle who are celebrating their fifty year marriage kiss I find myself glancing at my parents who are both looking down at the table. In my mind I can’t help but feel for the both of them. I imagine at one point they did love each other but just not enough to make a go of it. I mean they lasted seventeen years and it was seventeen years of pure hell. My only memories were of the both of them fighting and making each other miserable. My brother and I had a front row seat when their marriage ended and battle lines were drawn. When my mother fell in love with another man my relatives not only turned on her but my brother and I as well. We became hated as much as she was and we were only kids. Kids who had no say. It took almost ten years before my parents would speak to each other. It happened after I moved back to my hometown with my infant son. My parents decided to pass the peace pipe back and forth for the sake of their only grandchild.
I walk out of the building knowing I won’t see my cousins for quite some time and that I may never see some of those faces again. As a middle aged woman you would think I have grown used to it. After all there were lots of relatives on both sides of my family. Sadly the majority have long since passed away. I often wonder about cousins and relatives. I wonder if they are well-adjusted and if their lives really are as successful as I hear. Are their marriages happy? Are their lives full of joy? Or do they have their own struggles as well? One thing is for certain as I swipe past the pictures of an old family album. There are relatives that I truly miss, ones I wish I would have met and ones that know how to put on a good act. Whatever the story is I remember that family members are in our lives for a reason. We may not always get along but we are blood. We have a bond that can never be completely broken and as for the memories I think I will keep those tucked away safely in my mind.
