Making Peace

My father called me on Wednesday in the midst of one of my insane days at work to tell me that his wife was back in the hospital and that this is probably it for her.

"I don't know how much time she has. She could be gone today or tomorrow. Doctors can't say but she is very sick. So please call when you have an opportunity..." I was about to say "Sure, will do" when he hit me with "so you can make your peace with her."

I stayed quiet for a moment - long enough for him to know that I was trying my best to not go off on him.

"I'll give her a call. In fact, I may even stop by later on tonight if I can get out of the office. Please give me her info." This was out of respect and love for him and nothing more.

I've never had a relationship with this woman my father married when I was 8 years old. I guess the problems started on the day he married her. I wasn't invited to the wedding though I probably would have made a really cute flower girl. In fact, I didn't even really understand that they were married until I visited with my dad one Saturday afternoon back in 1982. I'd never met her and although my mom knew they had gotten married and may have even mentioned it to me, in my mind, I was just going to meet his girlfriend.

I came across the photo album while going through piles of stuff they had scattered all over the floor. (Guess I was perfecting my investigative skills even at that young age). It was a beautiful white album that said "Our Wedding" in elegant cursive. The first photo was that of what I now know is called the wedding party. I only glanced at my dad clad in a classy black tuxedo and flashing all of his teeth. My eyes lingered a moment or two on his ugly new bride in her lacy, ruffled white wedding gown. I barely looked at anyone in the picture. My eyes locked on this one cute little girl who looked about my age. She had on the prettiest dress I'd ever seen and she was holding flowers. She was doing what I should have been asked to do but I hadn't even been invited.

I wasn't mad at anyone for that incredible slight. No, my 8-year-old mind forgot about it a few bowls of ice cream later but that was just the first of what my relationship with his wife would take shape to be. She didn't want me apart of their world.

She was what one could playfully call an evil stepmother but her rude and just plain nasty behavior was not a game to me. She'd barely look at me when I came over for a visit. She'd grunt "hello" and keep doing whatever she was doing. If I slept over, I'd do my own hair when I got up in the morning which meant I wound up looking like somebody's neglected child. I understand that some people just don't like to comb children's hair - shoot, I don't like to comb my own daughter's hair but of course, I do it. The problem is she was a hairdresser who owned her own beauty shop. I can count the times on one hand that she did my hair in all the years she's been with my father.

On several occassions, I would call to speak to my dad and she'd say "He's sleeping" then slam the phone down before I could get the words "Please tell him I called.." out of my mouth. When I did finally speak to him, he of course would tell me that he never got the message. After about the 20th time of her hanging up on me, my mother called her and told her she would go over there and kick her ass if she ever hung up on me again. After that incident, she would simply hand the phone to him or mumble "MmmHmm" when I asked her to let him know that I called.

She never bought me anything, never acknowledged my birthday (though her birthday is only 4 days before mine and I would sometimes call her on her birthday), never wished me a Merry Christmas.

I was especially pissed off when my father had her tag along for one of the most important times of my life - my drive down to college. I didn't know she would be coming along so when my father showed up with her sitting in the frontseat, I don't know who was angrier me, my mother or my assorted family members and friends who were there to bid me farewell and had witnessed her mean-spirited behavior over the years. I had to sit in a little space in the backseat for that 8-hour drive since I had so many things to carry down to school. The frontseat should have been for me but again, I was given the shaft.

But it wasn't just about barely greeting me when I visited, not combing my hair, being rude when I called, or tagging along for my trip down to college. It was about what my father allowed her to do.

I never spent a holiday with her and my dad. I'd learned from my mom and again directly from my dad that she never wanted me there. She'd told my father when they got married that she didn't like kids especially his (he has another daughter from a different woman. My sister can't stand his wife either). We'd never done anything to her. We just existed. I was a child and she was the adult. She should have known better but more importantly, my father shouldn't have married a woman that could not, would not accept his children. But he did.

They were married for twenty-three years but a heart-to-heart with my dad about three years ago would reveal that their marriage was pretty much over at year 10. Their marriage had fallen apart a long time ago but they kept hanging in there for reasons beyond my understanding. It definitely wasn't for the kids - they never had any. And even as their marriage suffered he still allowed her to disrespect his children often chiding me for not being more cordial when I called the house or reaching out to get to know her. I know that he had a lot of arguments with her about her behavior as well but I felt that wasn't enough. If my man EVER treated my daughter badly he'd be out the door so quick his head would spin.

It wasn't up to me to reach out to her. As I got older I knew that I never wanted to get to know her. She wasn't a nice person to me when I was a child so why should I attempt to be kind to her as an adult. I wasn't rude to her. I just didn't deal with her unless I had to.

And I HAD to in 2000, when my grandmother passed away. We shared another agonizing 8-hour drive together to attend her funeral. My dad was already down south and he thought it would be great if his wife and I shared the drive down. I hated the thought but getting to my grandmother's funeral was the goal. I believe my father was hoping that we'd miraculously bond on the way down and be the stepmother/daughter duo he'd always thought we'd be. Negative. I don't think we said more than ten words to one another during that entire drive. I was wrapped up in thoughts of my dead grandmother who I would miss terribly and she.... well, who knows what her mind was wrapped up in. Frankly, I didn't care.

My father and his wife continued to remain engaged in their union despite their problems. When they finally decided to get a divorce because the arguments were becoming too much, too violent (she attacked him on several occassions. My sister and I plotted to beat her ass on those several occassions but decided against it in the end.) and just plain unbearable, they discovered she had lung cancer. She was a chain smoker. She and I almost got into it once because she even smoked in front of my daughter who she knows has asthma.

I can't say that I was particularly sad to hear that she had cancer. That may sound evil but I'm being real. What made me feel even less upset about it is that she continued to fight with my father even with her sickness. It seemed as if their relationship got even worse but he's been hanging in there to help her through the pain.

Now that she's approaching her final days, I believe my father still has hope that we will connect in some way. He doesn't realize that that will never happen. I did call to tell her she was in my thoughts but she could not come to the phone because she was in too much pain. I do feel bad to see any human being in pain and I sincerely wanted to tell her that I'd be praying for her. I even drove down to the hospital to see her yesterday but found out that she'd already left. She will be living her final days in hospice at home.

I called my dad to let him know that I'd attempted to see her and would it be ok for me to stop by today to see her but he told me she has plans. That struck me as odd given that she's dying but apparently today is the day of her retirement from the beauty business and it's the last hoorah she's been waiting for.

"This is why I was telling you to call or come to see her at the hospital" my father snapped.

"Well, I did call but she couldn't talk and I did go down to the hospital but she was already gone," I snapped back.

At that moment I decided that I wasn't going to make any more attempts. Some people are never meant to be friends or engage in any type of relationship. She was married to my father for over 20 years and it was never important to her to get to know me as it was never important or necessary for me to get to know her. Sometimes it's like that and that's ok.

She's dying and my father wants me to make peace with her but I was never the one with a beef. There is no peace to be made in my mind though I pray that she does rest in it when her time comes.