My mother came up missing again recently. No, they didn’t issue a Silver Alert on her. My family knows where she is. I am just the odd man out.
I only know this because every morning I call my mom at 9 a.m. my time, which is 6 in Seattle. She’s always been an early riser, so by then she already has her coffee and we can chat, even if just to say “hi, how you doing?”
She came up missing about three weeks ago. She didn’t answer her phone. Turns out she was in the hospital again having an operation. My daughter finally caught up with her at the rehab facility she usually goes to. She took a gamble she was there, and sure enough, there my mom was.
By now you’re saying, “Why doesn’t someone just call you?” Oh, if only it were that simple. See, I’m just about one step away from being an orphan. Once my mother is gone, all ties with my family will be gone…
This is a traumatic thought to some, but I’ve had 30 years to get used to the idea. Let me spin the little tale for you, albeit in shorter form than it is in my upcoming pirate memoirs. All the gory details are spelled out there.
When I was 24, I was terribly unhappy in my marriage and with life in Renton in general. It was time to play a Harry Houdini and escape. I did, albeit not in the cleanest of ways. I admit I had my hand in someone else’s cookie jar, which would inevitably lead to divorce.
And that, my friends, is why my family save for my mother hasn’t spoken to me since. I divorced my first wife, or should I say, she divorced me. I know, I know. There are millions of divorces each year, and each time a person gets a divorce, they trot back home in disgrace and their family helps pick up the pieces of their shattered dreams.
Not mine. Mine kicked me when I was down. In fact, when my ex left me, she moved in with my mother, not hers. Well, that didn’t exactly leave me many choices, so I had to fend for myself, turning to what friends I had at the time who were there for me when my family was not.
In our connected world of the Internet, I see them from time to time. One of them is on Facebook. The other never was a technofile, so I’m not surprised that he lives life largely off the grid.
I don’t want this to be a pity party. It’s not. Since this time I have discovered that many families have horribly dysfunctional relationships. I am not as alone as I once thought (thank you Facebook!).
Over the years, I’ve even found it to be somewhat of an advantage. During the holidays I have never had to coordinate a schedule of family visitation. I come largely unencumbered. We can go to my significant other’s house for the holidays all we want. I’m not exactly welcomed at Thanksgiving or Christmas anywhere else.
And I’ve found an alternative family over the years. My friend Bobby is my de facto father figure as well as friend. Animal has stepped into the role of older brother and Touche is the younger brother I never had. There are others, of course, too numerous to mention. I have a larger family now than I had as a child, and I treasure all these relationships as much, if not more, than I ever did my genetic ones.
Thirty years have past and you’d think my family would be over it by now. You’d think that growing older, they had grown up a bit and perhaps just a bit wiser. But no. They still play the old games.
Each time my mother goes to the hospital (this is the third time), I am never notified. When my daughter finally tracks her down, I call her dutifully at the hospital until the day I call and she’s suddenly gone — off to rehab. I dont’ get a call there, either. My daughter has to track her down.
I understand they still are mad at me. Frankly get over it. But what really disappoints me is how they treat my daughter, who my mother played a large part in raising. That pisses me off. She really shouldn’t have to play detective so her father can find his mother. She really deserves better than that.
That said, I believe karma is a real bitch. I have never wished anything bad on my family, even though I know they have on me. I have had a rough go of things, but I continue to be optimistic about the future. In contrast, they seem to be consumed by bitterness and their own inability to forgive.
I’m cool with that. And I know that some day karma will come rolling around with a bill that’s due. I’ve already paid mine on several occasions. True, I may only find out that my mother has died via the obituary section of the Renton newspaper. No problem. I have it bookmarked. And my mother and I long ago made peace with everything and I’m good with that, too.
Out on the Treasure Coast, washing my hands of my dysfunctional family in the warm waters of the tropical Atlantic,
– Robb