Once upon a time, I was fortunate enough to have three parents. Two were fairly reluctant, having made it obvious through their choices that they hadn't really intended to become parents. One was my parent by choice. Over the course of the time, the two who'd been stuck with me turned their backs on me for what they saw as better things - alcohol, a new family. And I could handle that because the one who chose me was still there.
And then one night last fall my call wasn't answered. In the ensuing months I called, I emailed, I wrote. Still no response. Which puts me in the interesting position of being the child rejected by three parents in turn. (In fairness to my biological father, he does well with the token gestures, and there's been rejection on both sides. Nonetheless - and forgive me as I descend into childishness - he started it. When you're 20 years old and you get a letter telling you that your father's family is too busy to make any effort toward you and if you want to remain part of that, you have to do all the work ... Yeah. You feel pretty rejected and unimportant.)
As I watch my children, I can't imagine being so disappointed in them that I choose just to stop speaking to them. I'll admit freely that I am heartbroken over this latest loss. I feel betrayed - and can't help but wonder what this does to my ability to trust other people. I've had a lot of friends (and two parents) turn on me seemingly overnight, but I've always had this one person I could count on, to remind me that not everyone leaves you. Now he has. I feel confident in the loved ones I have left ... but I felt confident in him, too.
Moments of doubt aside, over the last month or so my own sense of loss has receded, and I am left feeling my greatest sense of loss for the collateral damage - the relationships my parents and children will never have with each other. Fortunately, my children have stellar grandparents on the other side. And I had my childhood, and even though that entire period of life seems to have mattered only to me, my memories of it, and the people I loved, still shine. My children will have no memories of my parents, and my parents will not have my children to delight their old age ... through their own choice. What a treasure they have robbed themselves of.
And then one night last fall my call wasn't answered. In the ensuing months I called, I emailed, I wrote. Still no response. Which puts me in the interesting position of being the child rejected by three parents in turn. (In fairness to my biological father, he does well with the token gestures, and there's been rejection on both sides. Nonetheless - and forgive me as I descend into childishness - he started it. When you're 20 years old and you get a letter telling you that your father's family is too busy to make any effort toward you and if you want to remain part of that, you have to do all the work ... Yeah. You feel pretty rejected and unimportant.)
As I watch my children, I can't imagine being so disappointed in them that I choose just to stop speaking to them. I'll admit freely that I am heartbroken over this latest loss. I feel betrayed - and can't help but wonder what this does to my ability to trust other people. I've had a lot of friends (and two parents) turn on me seemingly overnight, but I've always had this one person I could count on, to remind me that not everyone leaves you. Now he has. I feel confident in the loved ones I have left ... but I felt confident in him, too.
Moments of doubt aside, over the last month or so my own sense of loss has receded, and I am left feeling my greatest sense of loss for the collateral damage - the relationships my parents and children will never have with each other. Fortunately, my children have stellar grandparents on the other side. And I had my childhood, and even though that entire period of life seems to have mattered only to me, my memories of it, and the people I loved, still shine. My children will have no memories of my parents, and my parents will not have my children to delight their old age ... through their own choice. What a treasure they have robbed themselves of.
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