When I was small, maybe two years old, my Mother took a picture of my Dad's parents. They were standing together, and I somehow got in the frame, on the bottom. I was wearing an Easter bonnet, or some such little girl hat, so I suspect it was a holiday. Shortly afterwards, my Grandfather died, suddenly, of some heart problem. My Mom gave the photo to my Grandmother, who framed it. I was folded out.
For the next 44 years, that picture sat in my Grandmother's living room. It was always there, and I knew that my little girl face was hidden in the folds. Okay, so then she died. Who knows, who got that picture. Who really cares about that little girl, who ever she was. Did they take the photo out of the frame? Did they cut me out? It really doesn't matter, to anyone but me.
I was folded out, cast away, put aside. I guess I just feel like that was a theme, somehow, for my future. Just jane in the background. Just a person of little significance, who does nothing to make a place, for herself. Boohoo, cry me a river! What ever, I know.
The reality is that it was a special picture. It held a place in my Grandmother's life. I did not, though. I was just another face in the crowd of a large Catholic family. My father divorced my Mother. We were just not considered part of the family anymore. Not really.
Luckily, my Mother was an only child. We were very special to my maternal Grandparents. I cherish the relationship I had with them. They are gone, now. So is my Mother. All that remains is my Father, and his family. They know little about me, or my life. I am just a name to them, nothing more. I got closer to my Father after my Mother died. But he goes to family functions, alone. Without us. We are never invited to family reunions, or gatherings. I was folded out of the picture, folded out of the family.
For the next 44 years, that picture sat in my Grandmother's living room. It was always there, and I knew that my little girl face was hidden in the folds. Okay, so then she died. Who knows, who got that picture. Who really cares about that little girl, who ever she was. Did they take the photo out of the frame? Did they cut me out? It really doesn't matter, to anyone but me.
I was folded out, cast away, put aside. I guess I just feel like that was a theme, somehow, for my future. Just jane in the background. Just a person of little significance, who does nothing to make a place, for herself. Boohoo, cry me a river! What ever, I know.
The reality is that it was a special picture. It held a place in my Grandmother's life. I did not, though. I was just another face in the crowd of a large Catholic family. My father divorced my Mother. We were just not considered part of the family anymore. Not really.
Luckily, my Mother was an only child. We were very special to my maternal Grandparents. I cherish the relationship I had with them. They are gone, now. So is my Mother. All that remains is my Father, and his family. They know little about me, or my life. I am just a name to them, nothing more. I got closer to my Father after my Mother died. But he goes to family functions, alone. Without us. We are never invited to family reunions, or gatherings. I was folded out of the picture, folded out of the family.
Hello
ReplyDeleteThere are many families like that of his father, are closed so that households, husbands or wives, are left out. their sense artual needs to be transformed. Seek to create a close relationship with his father's mission, masi certainly be well received. The problem was not his, the problem was the interaction between all family members.
OuvirLer foneticamente.
kisses
If I had waited until 'darkness' to read this, I'd have cried--not a river--a little for you, and for me. (But your blog did give me space to examine my own life--behavior.)
ReplyDeleteOld story: It is not what we say or do to children which matters. It is HOW WE MAKE THEM FEEL.
This post is well-written and much more worthy than some of the drivel I type here. Thank you SO much, Jane. Blessings. Especially in these blogs (where it is anonymous, simple AND easy) there are many who really care for the others here. Maybe THAT'S why I blog. Maybe even you.
Love and PEACE!