The Letters

My Dearest Love,

I can't remember if I told you about seeing a therapist. I made the decision to do so last fall when things went so disastrously wrong with your sisters. Due to the holidays and one cancellation due to a sick child, I have only seen this person twice. My main goal is to see if she can help me resolve the family rift that festers like a canker in my everyday life. My secondary goals are to better understand the effect of grief on myself and to get some guidance and feedback relative to being a single parent.

I extended invitations to each of your sisters to talk to this therapist. The youngest said it "didn't feel right" and refused all contact. The other agreed to a phone call, which took place prior to my second meeting with the therapist.

Your sister, the one agreeing to the phone call, spent most of the conversation telling the therapist how I had abused her during the group meeting from hell that occurred last November. She didn't recall any activities on her part that might have been termed "incitement." The therapist had to question her on several levels before she remembered the "other issues" that had triggered the family feud in the first place. Those were waved off with dismissal when held up next to the mountain of verbal excrement that yours truly dumped on her in front of her sister and sister-in-law at the meeting.

Fortunately for me, there was a fifth person at there, a neutral facilitator who spoke with the therapist at length and basically said that yes, I had said some hurtful things, but only after being attacked by both of your sisters in tandem.

God, I can't believe I am sitting here writing this. This is so tawdry and sordid. I sound like some pimply-faced teenager in one of today's on-line chat rooms ranting away at perceived enemies, spewing spleen and vindictiveness with each bang on the keyboard. I feel dirty.

So be it, back to the therapist and a game plan. She suggested that I write to your sisters individually. Each letter should be personal and honest, expressing my gratitude for all of the things that they have done for our family. I should recall the ties that have bound us together, both in the past, and those that hold us still. I should express my desire for peace, reconciliation, and forgiveness. I should leave the ball in their court.

I spent much of yesterday working on the letter to your sister, B. It took me four clean starts and much editing and rewriting (how I miss your red pen, my dear), but I have a draft done now. I will give it a day or so before going back to see if it still feels right. Then I will copy it out long-hand for mailing. Today, I hope to draft a letter to your youngest sister, P.

To tell you the truth, I don't hold out much hope. They seem convinced that I am the anti-christ though they continue to love and spoil our children. Last night, they all gathered at your sister's house to lavish gifts on our son for his fourteenth birthday. I was not invited.

He came home lugging his loot. My solace is the knowledge that as much as he covets material things, he forgets them quite quickly. It is love he really wants and there is no shortage of that for him.

Perhaps I will post the letters I send for you to see. I am of two minds about that. Later then.

With love,

P.