The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

My Dearest Love,

I sincerely hope that you are far, far away and no longer paying any attention to affairs down here on this mud ball. Had you been watching with your cable channel tuned to "Stupid Reality Shows", you would have seen an exhibit of mudslinging, name calling, veiled and not so veiled innuendos, diva drama, tears, and bare-naked anger yesterday as the Sisters-in-Law met with me and a neutral facilitator for an attempt at dealing with this major family feud. At that, we failed.

The "good" was that we met and shared our feelings. The "bad" was that we resolved almost nothing and perhaps took a step or two backwards. The "ugly" was everything in that room. Had you seen it, you would have been appalled by the behavior of your husband and your two sisters.

What has happened to us? What critical thing caused us to spin so out of control, going from hugging, loving relationships to hurtful accusations and feelings of such utter hatefulness? It is as though we were all on a balmy cruise that suddenly was enveloped by a raging storm, capsizing the boat and casting us into cold and hostile waters, beset by unseen dangers.

Was it your passing? The loss of you? The absence of your guidance and presence? I do not know. All I do know is that I am saddened, perplexed, and pissed all at the same time. We all claim to be doing this “for the children,” like bitter divorcing couples cat fighting and clawing at each other’s eyes while looking for the chance for a fatal blow. We are so sanctimonious, that I am sickened by it. Only in this case, it is me against your two, strong willed and “used to obedience” sisters.

That poor man who agreed to give up his Saturday morning to help a bunch of aggrieved family members, what he must think. There were times when I looked up and he had the look of someone about to be hit by a semi-truck going seventy miles an hour – you know, that look of panic tinged with the knowledge that you are trapped and cannot escape the fate that is hurtling toward you, except that he had to sit there for an hour an a half. Just writing this to you makes me feel unclean.

Going in, I was not sure what to expect. What transpired was much more emotional and wicked than I ever anticipated. I thought that the past six weeks would give us time for reflection and a chance to gain perspective on the issues that were involved in the original disagreement. But instead, events went from zero to insane in a matter of minutes. Your youngest sister, the one who always seemed the most rational and reasonable of your siblings, led the attack. Whatever time had passed, it had done nothing to lessen the animosity that she feels for me. And this, this feeling she displays, is a complete cipher to me. I do not understand what it was that I did that sparked this in her.

Your other sister announced about ten minutes into the round-table, that she had to leave because she “may be sick”, at which time she left the building and got locked out. It was high drama that never ratcheted down from the start. She alone went through an entire box of Kleenex. She really poured on the coals once someone had let her back into the conference room, wailing that she could not believe how I could be so cruel, saying the things I did? How could I repute all of those times when she had given up her own life to attend to our every beck and call? How many times had she left her husband and children to tend to us? How could I fail to see what she had given, at which time I told her to stop being such a martyr. I might as well have stepped up and slapped her right in the chops. It wasn’t one of my most diplomatic moves, but it was so true.

Your other sister reacted as if I had flung a pile of dog shit in her face. Things went down hill from there.

What a mess. I am ready to bid your family adieu. I don’t need this. Things are hard enough already. The ironic part is that if I removed your two sisters from the equation, life is generally getting better. The kids and I are getting along quite well. They are both doing great in school. I went to our son’s conferences last Thursday and his teachers could not say enough good things about him. We are making it. We are working out new, and more effective ways of communication. We are getting the feel of this new configuration. Perhaps I am counting my chickens too early, but it feels like we are doing OK – if it were not for the “adults” involved.

I don’t know what will happen. The adults will either work it out, or we won’t. I will not accept the current state of affairs. I wish I had better things to say to you. I am ashamed to report these things. We are supposed to set an example for the children and I shudder to think what we are showing them.