No time for Sat-9. I have put off wrapping, Finishing the tree. Here’s my excuse: I have not done this alone since 2009. That’s a while, no? Before our estrangement, my daughter Julie wrapped my gifts. She bought me a desktop tree. Every year she added to it. Lights. Bulbs, etc. There is no one on this planet that I’d like rather fix things together. But since the start she has never told me one thing: Why? Honest to god I have no idea what the hell this all was about.
My three other kids I have tight loving relationships with. The five grandkids from those children are my joy. I have never met my three grandkids from Jules & her husband James. . Please don’t tell me I am ending sentences with prepositions. I know – my bad. All I came here to explain that I was skipping the memes this weekend. But can’t I have just one Christmas wish. Every year. Maybe next year?
Every Saturday since the divorce I took her to breakfast. No one else, just her. It was to continue to have “our time”. Every Sunday she & my sons watched & played football. After I met my second wife, we’d have them every other weekend. One year her mother got mad at me. So no Julie. It was Father’s Day weekend.She put on such her mother & stepfather had to drive her up for it. Her stepfather plays a role here. But I’ve always like him. Perhaps nothing at all.
It’s an open wound that really gets to me this month. Every year. I write her. I’ve emailed her. I’ve begged. I have sent gifts to her first child’s Christmas. The were not acknowledged. We were so close as she grew up. She now has her PHD. It’s in psychology. Physician heal thyself? Nah. I’m so proud of her. endure this to have her happy, I will take it. It’s been 18 years. Half her life ago. I’d rather she’d be happy. And if I have to go through this to do that, I will go on. I will turn 70 in 2021. Not all that many chances to fix it for a Christmas.
It’s not her (or my) fault alone. When my two oldest wanted to disown her I came to their mother’s side. “She’s your only mother.” Did she do the same? I’m guessing not. She was a great mother. I think she might enjoy it. She gets everyone to see her at Xmas. Five more than I do. Every year.
I appoligized for dumping all this on you. Whoever you are. This blog doesn’t get comments except for the memes. That’s fine. I did not write this for attention. It’s my therapy, so to speak. Julie’s the therapist. I could ask you to help. But what would prove? My blog buddies like me? I have had my friends since 1967. They would not have stayed with me if I wasn’t worthy of it. I could go on, but enough self indulgence. More than enough.
At least Jill Hennessy writes me every Christmas. The French twins are knocking! Gotta go! I suspect I will here from The Queen as well. Have yourself a merry little weekend. We will be here, next week. Promise. Same time. Same blog.