Dear Oldest Child,
I have started this letter several
times and in several ways, but the likelihood of you ever reading it
is slim, so I guess it doesn't really matter. You are 18 now,
graduating (or graduated). Welcome to life after childhood. I know
you won't understand what that means yet. You still need time to
work out the hormones and figure out what life really is before you
can see reality for what it is.
My days of trying to be the
super-step-mom are long over, so I won't issue sweet platitudes o r
give rose-colored advice on your future. It wouldn't matter to you
anyhow. We aren't a part of your life; we won't be invited to your
graduation. It's not as much of a stepping stone anymore. It's just
another mile marker in the long road where you and your siblings move
further and further away from your father.
Your father still waits for you to call
because he believed you at Grand-dad's funeral. He believed that
you were sorry; he believed that once you were grown and free, you
would call. He doesn't want to bring pain on you from your mother,
so he didn't even send you a Facebook message regarding your birthday
because you told him she would “freak”. And, since I have
relinquished my step-mom crown, I am working hard on letting it go.
I am not responsible for his relationship with you or your
relationship with him.
Letting it go is difficult, though.
especially when I look back over the years. 10 years, your father
and I have been together. I still remember you as the little girl
who cried at the wedding because you were afraid you weren't going to
get to come. Your mom had told you she wasn't letting it happen, and
so your father and I sneakily moved the wedding forward. We paid for
it afterwards. We didn't see any of you for three months.
I remember many things, stories that we
kept from you because we wanted to believe that doing the right thing
meant that we would achieve the goal of having a happy, blended
family in the long run. So, we didn't involve you in the battle, we
followed advice that said to answer the questions briefly, but remind
kids that they should be kids and not worry about it. Boy, were we
wrong. Funny how you can play by the rules, but still lose. That's
a lesson in being a grown-up. Good luck with that one.
I remember the last day, when you left
our house for good. You hated us, you said. You hated Little Guy.
He wasn't your brother... Never mind that your mom's child, born of
a different relationship, apparently was, and is. It was then that I
realized, listening to the words coming from your mouth, that I could
never trust you with your father's and my child.
We were mean. How? You didn't know.
You just knew we were. We were abusive. How? You didn't know. We
just were.
You stared at me sullenly when I
finally confronted you about some of the lies your mom had spewed,
and confirmed that you had fed them to her. I doubt you ever cleared
up that misconception, and it doesn't matter anyhow, I suppose. Your
mom has and always will hate your dad. You and your siblings will
always be sucked into it.
So, I suppose in a way, I am glad for
you. This is your chance to escape. I hope you take it. This is
your chance to make amends and build bridges with your father. I
hope you do that too. He loves you, more than you will ever know.
He is a good man who believes the best in people. It was how he
lasted so long with your mom. He believes in you, too. And he
desperately misses you and your siblings.
As for me, as I said, I am done being
super-step-mom. I'm not playing by those rules any more. I won't
pull punches and I will never sugar coat things about your mom ever
again. So, while I encourage you to build bridges with your father,
I encourage you even more to do it without me. I am not who I once
was, and I will not pretend things are as they once were. That land
has been burned and salted.
But mostly, get away from your mom. I
know you love her, and I believe in her own sick, twisted way, she
loves you the best a bi-polar narcissist can. Your own sanity may
depend on you loving her from afar.
Sincerely,
Kitten