Semi-Rant, Semi-Memoir

Accepting an Apology I Never Got.

I’ve heard it said, “You can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family”. I’ve come to see that’s true and I’m wondering if there are others who have dealt with, or are dealing with something similar.

I’ve known for a long time that I was different, maybe even a black sheep. It didn’t happen overnight and it sure wasn’t something I ever planned on.

I’m oldest of the six children my parents raised. As the oldest, I guess I was supposed to set the bar for those coming after me, but my life unfolded very differently from theirs. That doesn’t lend itself to setting a bar.

* I was widowed at twenty.
* Unlike my sibs, I didn’t settle in Ohio where we were raised.
* Also, like my sibs, I’ve been divorced —-not once, but twice.
* I’ve lived in ten states and moved twenty-seven times.
* After two divorces, I turned my back on marriage in my 50s. I chose to live with the man I love.

In short, it was my life, not my Ohio family’s. I lived it making decisions that affected me, as well as my three children.

I always felt different when I visited, but not to the extent I have since our parents both passed. Whether it’s warranted or not, and whether any of the differences have anything to do with the color of my wool, I’ll probably never know.

When we spend time together separately, I have no complaints. Things are good —with the exception of my youngest brother. Whenever I’m around him, he drinks too much, which empowers him to get angry and rudely verbal.

Over the years, I’ve tried to find out why he’s so angry. I also spent more time trying to show him I care, but nothing changed.

Example:

Dad lived in a 55+ Life Care facility in Columbus until he passed. His Independent Living apartment had only one bedroom, so on my visits to Ohio from New Hampshire (a 12 to 15 hour drive), I always slept on his sofa. As usual, I called everyone from Dad’s the next day and extended an invitation for us to all get together, if they were available.

Finally, on one visit, my brother got very angry and belligerent ---it was showdown time. He wanted to know why I would stay at Dad’s and sleep on a sofa, when I could stay with any of them and have my own room and bed.

I tried to explain that, unlike him and my other sibs, who could visit Dad anytime they wanted, I needed my Dad time. He was in his 80’s and I wanted every minute I could have with him since I lived so far away.

This brother wasn’t finished. “You’ve always been the favorite!” “You should have worked harder at your marriages.” and “You live with Robert! Mom and Dad would never allow the rest of us to do that!” and “When you come for a visit, Dad drops everything because you’re coming!”

As an adult, I’ve always made my own decisions. At that point, I was a woman in my 50s for God’s sake. My brother has never given me a chance to rebut, deny, or even discuss what I think of as his selfish viewpoint.

But the most hurtful thing he said was: “Everything you say and do irritates the hell out of me!”

The rest of my sibs have assured me he’s the only one who feels that way. Maybe so. It sure has created a rift between the two of us. Until he can offer me a decent explanation and apology, I’ve had to accept the one I didn’t get and move forward with my life ... without him in it.

I think what he said hurts, because I’ve never gone out of my way to be hurtful to anyone, family, friend, or stranger. To have someone of the same blood be like that is unacceptable …

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