The Invisible Thread

Years ago my kids and I were talking one day about trusting in each other, knowing that we would always be there for one another. I think this conversation came about after they had gone through a rough weekend with their Dad and had called me in the midst of it for guidance on how to deal with it. We had strategized a safe route for them through it and it had worked. And I think we were decompressing and rehashing it after they got back home.

I reassured the kids that I'd always be there for them and we talked about knowing that we could rely on each other when things were scary or upsetting. My daughter used the image of there being an invisible thread running among the three of us and that, no matter how far it might stretch at times, we could trust in the fact that it would never break. Yes, she was wise beyond her years. After that, from time to time we reminded each other of that image, reassuring each other that, no matter what might happen or where we might be, our bond was unbreakable. We would always be there for each other.

When Kate got married, her Pete became part of the circle that our invisible thread had formed. And today I think our circle may be welcoming another member. My son has fallen in love with a very special young woman. I won't even name her here because I don't want to jinx it. But today Kate and I spent a couple of hours with both Kevin and her and somehow the three of us found ourselves talking and listening to each other more honestly than we've been able to in a while.

As close as we are (and, perhaps, because of it), it hasn't always been easy to have an honest exchange among us. Kate and I have had to work hard at setting up boundaries and respecting them -- harder work for me than for her, I admit. Kevin pretty much "did it all" in the past and exhibited a great deal of rage along the way. No matter what or who lay at the heart of all that, he often directed his anger at me -- probably because he knew I would still be there afterwards. Of the three of us, he has the shortest fuse and often aims the verbal ammo first, thinks second. Our times together are not always spent fighting but when these arguments have taken place they've left behind resentment and a leeriness about dealing when another issue comes up down the road. We've been there for each other as promised but sometimes we three have avoided being honest or confronting a problem for fear of another scene.

When things get tough or people seem to fail him, Kevin often gets fed up and just wants to bail. He's been complaining about some aspects of his military life lately and suggesting he's going to find the way for an early departure. Neither Kate nor I have "gone there" with him on this because (1) it's childish and (2) he enlisted, he's theirs, get real. But when he brought it up again today I guess we both realized we had to get him to think and consider the consequences -- this "let me out, get me out" is an old pattern with him and, if he actually tried to carry it out, it would be disastrous for him and his future. So each of us was honest, direct, reminded him he'd made a commitment and was expected to see it through by both the Marines and us. We both talked to him about his options, the possibilities he is missing, ignoring. Kate cried about the incredible changes he's made for the good and her pride in him - and I saw a few tears in his eyes. In our own way each of us advised him to stop complaining and figure out how to improve his life within the system he has chosen. Initially Kev was impatient and even demanded of me why I wouldn't help him get out of this. But I told him that I would not step in to bail him out of a situation he'd created but then decided was just too hard, as I have in the past. I'm not that parent anymore. A grown man, a member of the Marine Corps is quite capable of figuring this out and making it better himself. This was a long overdue shift that I had to put out there for his sake, his sister's and mine. I just didn't know I'd be saying it today.

Once we'd each said our piece, there was no yelling, no accusing and minimal attitude. There was appreciation for our honesty and for our faith in him. This was a shift in him. We not only survived this conversation but reconnected with each other on a level that we had not reached in quite a while. Each of us respected each other's thoughts and opinions, offered advice without judgment and acted like healthy adults. Maybe everyone else gets through such talks without missing a beat, but we often haven't. And while I think all three of us have matured and figured how to handle some things in a better way, I also think that Kevin's girlfriend's presence made a difference for him -- and for us. When he began to get defensive or irritated, she urged him to listen, to ask questions, to appreciate the love behind our words. He calmed down, listened to what we had to say and acknowledged he had some thinking to do. The best in him rose to the occasion and I think I know why: he had the assistance of a gently skilled seamstress today. I think our "invisible thread" just grew a bit stronger.

I can see that this new woman in our midst already knows Kevin well and has some understanding of the history we three have written together. She was tactful, sensitive, engaged but she never overstepped - not an easy task! She played a gentle but helpful role in our little trio's connection today, aware of Kev's natural defensiveness but helping him keep it at bay. I was touched by her understanding of my son and her appreciation of the love that Kate and I feel for him. Another young woman who is wise beyond her years.

I hope that, if this relationship is right, Kevin will feel confident enough to give his heart to this lovely, unique woman and have it returned in full. To sense that he may have met his match, the thing that's been missing from his life, is such a hopeful feeling. I've worried that Kev, who has often felt alienated from his peers and unable to connect with people who really get him, might give up on ever finding a true partner to share his life -- or even give up on life altogether. But I think that this woman sees past his tendency to build up walls and is gently tearing them down. She is giving him not only love but genuine acceptance and encouragement. What a gift this is for my dear son. What a good heart he has to give her in return.

I don't want to jump to conclusions or lay a lot of expectations on her or them. This is a new relationship and they need to take time to really know each other. And it's theirs, not mine. But if Kevin loves her and she loves him, if they want to make a life together.....well, our invisible thread is tightly wound but very flexible. It would be a joy to welcome her and weave her in.

Golden Girl

I spent last Saturday with my oldest friend, Eileen. We met during our first week of high school, freshman year. She rode the same bus as some girls in my home room and I think we ended up having lunch at the same table. We started talking and just clicked. I don't remember our ever having a class together. But she and I became so close we usually spent part of most weekends together. I don't know how I would have survived high school without her and yet I look at us sometimes and wonder how we ever found common ground.

I'm an only child, she's one of six. I had my own bedroom and bathroom -- a luxury she truly envied. But her house was always bustling and I loved to hang out there. I'm 5'2", brunette, grey eyes, semi-cute. She is 5'8", strawberry blond, fair and naturally beautiful. When we were in high school, I was sensible, the planner, the "mature" one. She was adventurous, laid back and lovably flighty. I generally had my feet on the ground, her head was often up in the clouds. I got the directions for where we were going, made sure we had gas and some money. She'd jump in the car, tell me the latest gossip and make sure my mascara hadn't run before we hit the party. When my serious self needed to lighten up, she was always there to crack me up. When her disorganization or lack of foresight caught up with her, I would help her straighten it out and get back on track. We saw each other through everything in those years and we learned that we could depend on each other for honesty, laughter, understanding. We knew we could trust each other -- and in a school filled with hormonal teen-age girls, some of whom could smile in your face just before they stabbed you in the back, that was saying something! Our friendship is one of the most genuine relationships I've shared in and I treasure it.

Forty years later, the contrasts between us are just as intriguing. She's married to a gem, has 3 kids and lives in California. I'm single, have 2 kids, a son-in-law and 3 grand-daughters all living close by in the East. She's a decorator and artist, I'm a lawyer and semi-singer. She's into biking and sometimes rides 30 to 40 miles for fun but it's a special kind of hell for me just to get to the gym. She's still adventurous, fearless, heading off to some new place whenever she can. I'm a traditionalist, a putterer, happiest at home near my family. She can take the most negative situation you can think of and turn it into a positive one. I can waste time getting caught up in the sad stuff of life and miss out on the chance to feel just plain happy. Could we be more different? Yet as soon as we're in the same room again we're as close as we were when we double-dated to our junior prom. Over the years it's become clear that we've stayed connected, in part, because of the differences between us.

I've also learned that Ei and I share some basic traits: we are Irish, with the irreverent sense of humor that's part of our heritage and the spines of steel that lurk just below the laughter. We are all about our families -- even when they make us nuts -- and we don't understand deception, cruelty or pretension. My friend may seem light and easy on the surface, but she is determined about the people and things that mean the most to her. You see, the thing with Eileen is to never confuse her sunniness with a lack of seriousness. She knows who and what are important to her -- and her marriage, her kids and her home reflect that. All are real, solid, filled with love. Just like her.

I can talk to Eileen like I can to no one else and I think she feels the same. We can go for months at a time without speaking but as soon as we see each other we're like magpies, yak-yak-yak, giggling, finishing each other's sentences, speaking our own familiar language. It's such a cliche but...we just get each other. The familiarity and comfort of knowing we are truly "there" for each other, no matter how many miles separate us, no matter what else is going on, is a gift. There are times in life when we look forward to doing something so much that the "doing" can't live up to the hype. But when I get to spend some time with Eileen it's like being served my favorite wine, savoring the color, swirling it around in the glass before I take that first cool sip. The taste is even better than the anticipation.

We walked along the shore last weekend, complaining and then chuckling at the little aches and pains we're starting to have, bitching about hot flashes, when-is-my-stupid-period-ever gonna-end, why do men get better looking and our butts just spread, and our latest common bond: asthma. She has issues with her siblings, I listen and try to counsel when asked. I have concerns about my kids, my parents, my bosses, and she does the same for me. I thought to myself at some point that day, "I get so lonely for someone to talk to sometimes. What's wrong with me? This is the friend I want to talk to! I just need to do it more often." It's such an obvious solution to those many nights when the phone doesn't ring. I simply have to dial and hear her voice --and we can pick up where we left off.

So I type these words and smile at the memories I've made with this golden girl, Eileen. If I were an artist and someone asked me to paint a picture of my sister, hers is the face I would paint against a sun-filled background. If she was a singer and was asked to write a song about friendship, I think she would write one that sounded part Motown-part Mozart and sing it from the heart. I am more at ease, more myself when I'm with Eileen and I think I give her comfort and complete acceptance. We are, in every sense, best friends. It doesn't get better than this.

Dealing with the Past

I've been divorced for almost 16 years. My ex-husband remarried 3 months after the divorce. He married a woman I'd considered myself to be friendly with, whom he started seeing when we were separated. But we also were seeing a therapist then, talking, meeting, planning time together, trying (so I believed) to work it out. I'd made it clear that I was seeing no one, wanted to focus on him, us and expected the same in return. He even told me during this time that, if we could get past the hurts, we were going to get married all over again. He always knew how to give me hope. So I was shocked when I discovered he was involved with her. I've come to understand that she never considered herself to be friendly with me or she wouldn't have slept with my husband or hurt my children. But I'd sung at her first wedding, worked on a committee with her. She'd been a guest in my home, met my kids, heer father was my mother's doctor. We were not strangers who barely knew each other, which she's claimed to relieve herself of guilt or responsibility. The truth is she didn't give a damn who got hurt. Silly me, I've always thought women should treat other women better than this.

Of course, none of that lets him off the hook. My ex-husband had many gifts: looks, intelligence, humor, creativity, charm, ambition and drive. He was exciting to be around, intriguing to know. We had a lot in common, brought out the best in each other for a long time and loved each other so much -- at least I thought so. We had two kids, Kate and Kevin, and his career as a lawyer took off. The prospect of a happy life lay ahead. But he was also a high-functioning alcoholic and that quick, witty streak in him turned mean, hateful when he drank. He hit, he threw things, he physically intimidated me -- 5'1" vs. 6'2" -- what chance did I have? I learned, as did my kids, not to push the wrong buttons or there would be an explosion. Even when he wasn't drinking he had unpredictable mood swings, an acid tongue and we walked on eggs around him. Over time, he became as nasty to the kids as he was to me, calling them names, tossing off the put-downs, making them feel horrible about themselves with his digs and barbs. We lived in a constant state of suspense and he exerted all the power. This once charming man became arrogant, full of himself and, a lot of the time, full of crap. He could lie to your face with such sincerity you'd believe anything he said. When he wasn't home, he was either working, entertaining clients or.....well, he wasn't faithful to me. I came to realize that he was very insecure despite his gifts and I felt for him. But he also was the most narcissistic person I've ever met and his self-absorption increased as he became more outwardly successful - or drank more. It was so painful to love a man I sometimes couldn't bear, or was afraid, to be around. I know I created distance both to find myself and to protect myself and my kids from all of this. And I'm sure that was painful for him.

Why on earth, you may ask, would you try to repair such a life? Because I loved him, the kids loved him and we'd see flashes of the other side of him and keep hoping it would resurface for good. I also believed alcoholism was at the root of most of the behaviors that alienated us from each other. I hoped that if he could admit he had a problem and get help we'd have a chance at rebuilding the trust that had once been there. I even had him close to going to rehab once but he twisted it into "You just want to get rid of me" and refused to discuss it. And, oh yes, because I was a classic enabler who could not envision my life without the insanity that I had come to know as normal.

Perhaps we might never have healed but I was committed to trying, face to face, no other "distractions" in the way. So I felt betrayed all over again when I discovered that he was sleeping with her, and the fact that it hit so close to home this time was doubly infuriating, humiliating. In hindsight, I'm sure he chose her because he knew the wound would cut too deeply and we wouldn't recover. A gutless move. I ran out of forgiveness in that moment of discovery and realized that I'd lost any self-respect I'd once had in this relationship. What would my children think of me if I took this from him too? What destructive relationships would my daughter get involved in with this as her example? What had my son learned about how to treat or relate to women in this house? Could their expectations about relationships or marriage get any lower? Enough. So we had an acrimonious divorce, our kids suffered tremendously and occasions like graduations, confirmations were avoided like the proverbial plague because of the layers of bile that piled up between us. It took Kate and Kevin years to recover to the extent they have. I'm so scarred I doubt I'll ever date anyone let alone marry again. And while I take my responsibility for the part I played in all this, I admit I feel nothing but hatred for that man and that woman even now. There's no other word to pin on it. Irrational, old news, wasted energy? Maybe, but that's the way I feel. Hatred coupled with a deep sadness that can still wash over me at unexpected moments. I try not to dwell on it or let it control me anymore and I've worked hard on pushing past the bitterness that I carried for years. But the feeling is there even now.

Of course, he (and the wife - who was skinny, rich and could match him drink for drink when they started up) is sober now after a stint in rehab, has restructured his life, can quote the AA Blue Book chapter and verse until you want to beg him to stop, and would have you believe he has it all together now. I don't really buy it, and will always be waiting for the other shoe to drop on Kevin, Kate or (out on the periphery) me. And while his recovery is better for the kids, who have rebuilt a relationship with him, it all came too late for me, for us. I know this doesn't matter to him a whit, that I stopped mattering to him long ago. And I've been reminded a few times even during these divorced years that he still has the knack for cruelty when it comes to me. But wouldn't you know he finally had to admit to himself he was a drunk to get himself together? Wasn't I just such a miserable bitch for begging him to tackle this when we were together, when it could have given us all the chance we deserved? Wouldn't you effing know it? Irony can be amusing in some situations but in this one...it just pisses me off.

Why write about this today? Because our Elizabeth is being christened this afternoon and I have to see "them" again and hold it together. I'll have to guide my aging parents, who loved my ex like a son and would now prefer never to set eyes on him again, through it. And I just have to steel myself for it. Why must a day of such pleasure carry with it this ugly chunk of pain?

My Kate has to walk through this minefield today. I know it unnerves her. And her state of mind and heart are far more important than mine. It's her Lizzie's moment and she and her family deserve our focus and love. She will have my best effort at this ceremony. I'll acknowledge my ex's presence, turn back to the altar and enjoy the beauty of the ceremony that will welcome Elizabeth into our church. I'll also say a prayer that Lizzie the Wing-Ding doesn't take off down the aisle or jump in the baptismal font -- which are definite possibilities! And once the pictures are taken and the pleasantries exchanged, I'll walk away and breathe.

And in my patched-up heart I'll also ask God to forgive me for being so unable to genuinely forgive where these two people are concerned. The experts say I'd be giving myself a gift if I could forgive them and I feel like such a weak and screwed up twit that I can't get there. I certainly have forgiven and forgotten others who've hurt me in the past. But though I truly have tried, I can't say I've ever come close to genuinely feeling that in my heart. I accept where my life is now. It's a good life. Not what I'd envisioned but it's honest, real, without suspense or fear. I've worked hard to get to this point, as have my kids in their own lives. And my son, daughter and I share such a close bond, in part, because we've been through so much together and come out the other side. Despite all that, on these occasions when we're all in the same room I look over toward my ex, I see her next to him and I feel it all over again.

I've come to acknowledge that my children have established a relationship with her, which is a brutal piece of reality for me. She is married to their Dad. She is a constant when they see him. I suppose their relationship with her, whatever it is, was inevitable. But what did she ever do to deserve more than a superficial connection with my wonderful kids, the center of my little piece of the universe, or with my incredible grandchildren? In my head, I guess I understand how this evolved over time. But it's a blow to my heart that, despite my ramblings here today, hurts me so deeply I have no words for it.

Because this has occurred Kevin has confronted me about trying to "do better" when we are all in the same place. He seems to expect me to engage in chit-chat or extend warmth to her -- a burying of the hatchet, if you will. When he said this, it took all of my composure to keep from just screaming, "Are you f---ing kidding me?" I don't think he appreciates the break I've cut everyone by not talking to her. I think my kids worry that, if I were ever to speak to her, the hurt and fury I've carried inside me all this time would be unleashed. I understand this: it takes a lot to get my Irish up but when you have, look out. But I also know that me "unleashed" would only cause me to look foolish -- and change nothing. Surely he and his sister know me well enough by now to understand that I won't risk my dignity by doing that to them or myself. And I never would try to turn a day that's about them or their children into something about me. That kind of manipulation isn't in me. They can trust me to remain quiet -- even if I'm silently reminding myself today that it's not nice to wish for lightning to strike people when you're in church! Sorry, son, I've borne a lot in this mess but I cannot give you what you want here. She can bury that hatchet right where.....well, you get my drift.

By holding my head up and remaining silent, I'm honestly trying to do those I love the most gracious favor I can under very difficult circumstances. I know it's been years now but, when I'm around them, it's all right there slapping me in the face as if it happened yesterday. So this silence, this reserve is the best I can do in a situation I didn't create and which caused incredible pain to three people who didn't deserve it. I'll focus on the joy of this day, my gratitude for Elizabeth's health and healing, and the wonderful little family she energizes with her presence and laughter. I'll give my daughter what she needs. But I'm not a saint. I'm not God. I hope he understands the rest -- and forgives.