Mom was totally comfortable with people who seemed to assign value based on what we could do for them. What mattered to her was that they were present in her life. She didn't care about how tangential their presence was, as long as they were there.
My guess is that Mom's attitude was a combination of personality, personal experience from a young age, and the culture in which she was raised - it was always all about what others needed, never what she might need or just appreciate. It was not that she would not, but COULD not, during the many times my sister & oldest brother lived with us, ask them for help - even with something as mundane as vacuuming or drying the dishes - let alone kicking in a few bucks to household expenses. It was not in her - no option.
Once, years after I married John & Mom came to live with us, stunned at her again spinning gold out of the utter dross of what felt to me like neglect, I griped that she'd put up with anything from either of them, as long as she could hold onto the thin slender thread of hope that they'd remain in some way in her life. Will always remember her look of complete surprise that I even had to ask - yes, she'd put up with anything rather than extinquish hope, however slender it might be.
Is it any wonder that the two of us had such difficulties living together, at least when it came to family relationship. Our different approaches to family relationship wasn't the fly in the ointment of our own relationship - it was a bloodied shark.
My expectations of my sibs was always & forever... am not even sure how to describe it. Tragically opposite from Mom's is the closest I can come up with. Where she expected nothing consistently substantial from them, I expected to at least be respected, if not loved.
LOVE - the word that made Mom's world go 'round. At least what she could experience as a semblance of it. Mom always experienced love as a noun more than a verb. And she put up with anything to protect that thin slender threat of hope, including ignoring what was right in front of her. Anything to protect the hope of feeling loved.
Our pre-John Christmases were especially grim. It's because of knowing how ghastly they could be that I have no qualms whatsoever over my brother's children wanting nothing to do with me now. They have few, if any, happy memories of me, especially at Christmas.
The holidays at our house were full of angst & tension, with Mom smoothing it all over with her wonderful smiles & hopeful words. I didn't have - alas, not even in my early thirties - the maturity to not butt heads with their dad.
Mom didn't mind the tears & upset, as long as we were together. They were not happy times & I have the non-relationship with two people I love to prove it.
John changed everything. On our second Christmas, he observed my dissolving into tears over something & said, quite simply but clearly, "This is not the way Christmas is supposed to be." I looked at him, stunned. "You are not supposed to cry at Christmas," he continued.
Really? Seriously? I couldn't remember any Christmases that didn't involve at least a few tears.
It hit me that the only person I remembered crying was ME, possibly because I might have been the only person who was disappointed over how the Lockhart family celebration was going. Christmas wasn't supposed to involve tension or stress, tears & upset? This was revolutionary thinking!
That was the same Christmas that provided an astonishingly clear image of just how my previous ones had typically unfolded. Mim was staying with us. She asked if she could ask a few friends over for Christmas Eve. Sure, no problem. Unfortunately, the group of them basically - and unintentionally - highjacked our celebration. It was immensely helpful, in a perverse way, to consciously FEEL the evening become their celebration, not ours. A mega eye opener for John, who told he how weird it felt to seem an outsider in his own house. He GOT what my typical Christmas had been like - the group of them around the dining room table, with the two of us out in the far reaches of the kitchen, there but separate. He was right - this was not how Christmas was supposed to feel.
I bring this up to simply say that family relationships can be tough & it is really super hard to give any suggestions based on my experience that might help out. Tolstoy was spot on - happy families really do seem seem to be alike, to share certain core dynamics that help them stay on even keel in rough weather, while each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
But there can be a light at the end of that holiday train tunnel! That in itself brings up an interesting dynamic. You'd think that after Mom died, after we no longer had to invite my sibs to join us on the day or stay overnight, that we'd finally have our own Christmas. Ha! Mim didn't come - by then, she had her own Christmas traditions in New Jersey - but Peter would typically stay overnight on Christmas Eve & spend at least the next morning with us. I'd put on a slam bang brunch & we had a grand time.
It wasn't until Peter & I had The Great Fallling Out that we stopped inviting him over for Christmas. We finally got past the train wreck of family mix ups & mess ups and through the long tunnel,
Christmas isn't all that I'd love for it to be - I dearly miss contact with Peter's children, but take solace that whatever makes life work better for them is fine with me. On the up side, I get to follow my ex pat Aussie #2 nephew & his wife via Facebook (maybe visit them down in Georgia next holiday season?). And I mailed off Christmas presents to his sister, my Australian niece & her husband & their daughter, my great-niece, celebrating her first Christmas. That was comfort & joy! Her dad & mom even included a return address on their Christmas card this year (they moved in 2013), so we could send our own down to my bro & s-i-l.
As for Peter & Mim...
Well, it's December, so that's always time for Peter to reconnect. He turned 76 yesterday & Christmas is coming. Am ruefully chortling, realizing that Mom's 12/06/00 Mindwalker posting noted how much she regretted not seeing more of Peter, how delighted she was that he was coming over the next day for a visit. Right on time, I got a communication from him on 12/01/14, then another - this one an actual letter - a couple days later that managed to include two mentions of "Happy Birthday." Hmmm.... I'd been planning on doing a special delivery run of his favorite Chinese food from his favorite take-out place. Now, if I did, he could think it was due to his nudge. Then, I remembered - years ago, I decided to not let concern about what Peter might or might not think change what I wanted to do. Smiling, remembering the voice mail message of thanks that greeted us after dropping it off, tucked away with a card in a festive HAPPY BIRTHDAY bag. shhhh - will do a similar run on 12/25!!
Mim is easier. We've partnered in establishing a relationship via the US Postal Service. We write notes to each other throughout the year. The other day, I got a Christmas check from her (Mim always manages to send a lovely check, which is astonishing given her limited financial resources), and I have been sending her wildly whimsical socks with little special gifties, like the pin that states, "I dream of a world in which chickens can cross the road without their motives being questioned."
Will we see each other? No. I think that's better for them; it is certainly better for me. John & I celebrate Christmas throughout the month. Our most precious gifts to each other are memories of happy times & special moments.
Mom never changed taking whatever came at her in order to hold onto that thin slender thread of hope. In my heart, I will honor that by doing what I can to preserve the sense of relationship between my sibs & myself. I do it in recognition that we are an unhappy family - not just an unhappy me. I do it because Mom couldn't. I do it to celebrate all the glorious Christmas gatherings she longed to have. I do it because of my own deep love of healthy family relationship, which sometimes means presents without presence. I do my best to take Mom's thin slender thread of hope & spin it into the most healthy whole happy Christmas possible.
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