Sunday, January 13, 2013
The Family that Stole Christmas Cont...
We were already down the road and could not take the time to go back and retrieve the presents. I called Susan, who was the only person I knew to be in town, and could barely explain what had happened I was sobbing so much. David and Susan gladly picked up the gifts.I am much like my father in regard to communication. Both my father and I have to talk to everyone: cashiers, bank tellers, people waiting in line, etc. We strike up conversations with anyone who will listen. So while I was selecting items, during my repeated trips to the mall, I had of course discussed my daughters and how excited I was about their gifts and how they would likely use the apparel, purses and shoes.
When I returned home I planned to take back the clothing and more trendy items and save the jewelry. I went over to David and Susan’s house, unwrapped the gifts and Susan thought she should go with me, with me being extremely upset again. We went to the store and the same sales clerk was there. She asked me how my girls liked the presents and I began to sob, a sob where unavoidable sounds come from your guts. We had to leave. I returned a few weeks later, and though tears still ran down my face, I could make it through the interaction. I cannot return to the store to this day.My friend (J) whose 26 year old daughter hasn’t spoken to her either, for years, says she stopped giving gifts when her daughter left her birthday present on her front porch. She and I have an unfortunate bond of shared pain; we will always just know on birthdays, holidays……I am so thankful for her vulnerability and for being there with me every step of the way. For some reason the rejection of even gifts is just devastating, for both of us.
Good intending people recommend that I still send cards and gifts and not let up on my girls. I cannot bear it again. It hurts way too much to be rejected over and over by my own flesh and blood. Even as I write this my heart tightens, tears run down my face. I have to be able to not only function but be a productive employee and be a good parent to my son. Susan tells me, when I start to second guess myself, “they rejected you, not you them, and you were a good Mom, you have to wait patiently for them to take a step toward you.” She’s right, though it hurts so much, it feels right. To do anything other than that leaves me vulnerable to an emotional crash. It feels like death, I mourn for them daily. And then I stop myself, every day, hope and pray that they are well and will someday be able to free themselves from the Walton’s, and move just one inch toward me. And then I turn away from the pain and darkness and look at my new path with the sunshine shining brightly on it. I wish they would walk with me just once and a while.
at 1:15 PM