It’s the day after Christmas and I don’t exist. I don’t exist to my sons. I don’t exist to their spouses. I don’t exist to their children.
I’m left to ponder exactly what I did wrong as a parent that I could create two such monsters, so cold, so cruel, so uncaring. No card, no phone call, not even an email or a Facebook post. Nothing. Nothing at all.
Of course, they had their mother over on Christmas eve for hours of family fun and companionship. But not me. Not me.
The sun is bright outside on this December 26th but it is cold in here today, and dark. And no, before anyone worries, I am not that despondent. I won’t hurt myself.
My daughter came by last night, to drop off her gifts to me, to give me a hug, and then to leave. I cried, both at the thought that she had to come visit me like some leper, and that my sons had not a single thought of me this holiday season.
I never closed the door on our relationship. My sons did that. Their choice. And I would forgive them in an instant if they wanted to re-open that door.
But I’m also learning that I need to move on, to stop staring at that closed door, to make new friends, to find new family. It’s time to walk away from that closed door, to turn my back on it, to let it go.
Yet even as I walk away, I will continue to wonder, how can anyone be this cold, this callous, this cruel to another human being? I guess I’ll never know.