Tuesday, September 10, 2013

I'm a parent, you know

My sister called, and her daughter, my niece, is getting married next summer on the left coast.  I said I would try to be there.

Then my sister started the most tortured conversation I've had in awhile, saying how her daughter wanted the full extended family there if they wanted to be there but there were a few cousins she hadn't really heard from for awhile that, well, maybe she didn't want them to be there.  She had discussed it with my sister and my sister was bringing it up with me to see how I felt about it.

I'm always ready to give advice and I'm thinking, Harley's kids?  Those parents got divorced and maybe those were these the cousins my sister was going on and on about.

It took a couple of minutes for the light bulb to finally flash on, because men are obtuse and I'm a man.

She was talking about my kids.  Nobody wanted Jimmy, Johnny or Danny at this wedding nohow noway because, well, they were trained as minors to loathe all Lambertons.

 The interminable quarter million dollar divorce, you know.  Those 3 boys haven't spoken to me in six years nor a single Lamberton in ten years.

This was a gob smacker, how my family views these three rotters (as my divorce lawyer used to refer to them privately when, as minors, they were busily suing me).  I have been slowly dribbling these children out of my heart since I discovered forgiveness five years ago and have since been working through travail, and character.

I said the wedding was about my niece and not my children, and I had no bad feelings about this Lamberton progeny wanting to exclude these three putative Lambertons from the wedding list (at least one has since changed his name, so is he still a Lamberton?).  I was touched that my niece thought I needed special care regarding those three.

But I am also sad.  Sad and deep as you (Traffic).

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