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Saturday, April 23, 2011

The past is trying to poke its way into the present...

...and I'm not ready to let it.

Remember back when I was in that weird place?? My ex passed away almost 3 months ago. Hard to believe that it's been that long already, but it has. Anyway, the day after he died was when his sister-in-law called me and informed me that his family wanted to have a "relationship" with my son.

In about 2 weeks, it'll be exactly 2 years since I kicked him out of our home. As of today, someone from his family has made exactly the 5th attempt at contact - a generic Easter card. He has received exactly 2 birthday cards and 2 Christmas cards, and now an Easter card. Five cards in 2 years.

No phone calls.

No letters.

No visits.

Not even an email.

Wow. Talk about a relationship. The relationship-iness of it is overwhelming.

On the flip side, I haven't contacted them either. But I'm a big girl - I don't need them in my life. My son wasn't even 2 years old when I kicked his father out - did his father's family ever check on him to make sure that he was ok? Nope. Did they ever call to make sure that he didn't need anything, since his father wasn't providing anything - including the court-ordered child support? Nope. Did they ever bother to do anything to even remotely indicate that they thought of him as a part of their family? Nope.

The decent human being part of me says to put the card away, say a little prayer of thanks that he got anything, and let it go.

The really good part of me says that I should make contact with them and establish a relationship with them.

The pissed off mother part of me says to rip the card up and mail it back to her, with a pleasant reminder that my last name is no longer the same as my ex-husband's, thankyouverymuch, and that it hasn't been for well over 3 months now, not that she would know that since she obviously doesn't recognize my son as a part of the family unless it's an appropriate time to send him a mass-produced greeting card.

So for right now, the decent human being part of me is going to lock the really good part of me and the pissed off mother part of me in a closet, and I'm going to go on with my life, pretending that they don't exist.

So there.


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