We are having our Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow at work. I signed up for "mashed potatoes". As I sat at the table peeling 5 pounds of potatoes with Beth and Daniel, my daughter asked me if I was excited about going to grandma's house in NC next week. After expressing a ?, I explained to Daniel how I was not like anyone in my family. We were all so different and we never knew how the trip might turn out. Beth then tells me that she wrote a story about "grandma", her father's mother in CA. She remembered how grandma would always give her a craft when we visited her. She said, "oh, I miss grandma". She died a couple of years ago. Beth said she never liked grandpa. She was always afraid of him. I then told her the story of the first time I met her grandma. It was back in 1985, when her father and I lived in NC. We had married in May of that year, and I flew out by myself to Walnut Creek to meet my new "in-laws" the following July. It was my first time on an airplane. I was very shy at the time. I was scared too death. My now ex did not go. After we were married in May, he left, I think it was in June to go on tour with Gary Morris. So, the trip was planned for me. Lucky for me, they served free champagne during the flight. By the time the flight ended, I think I knew every passenger on that plane. It was a hoot! So, when the plane landed, and I was greeted by my new in-laws, it was wonderful. The entire week I spent with them was amazing, and going to the city, San Francisco. I came home as a new person. A new found bravery. I had never travelled this far before, much less all by myself.
The following Christmas, my husband (now ex - so just keep that in mind when I refer to him as husband), my son from my first marriage, was 9 at the time, and myself flew out to CA for Christmas. Everything changed. So much fighting, arguing. I wasn't use to this new found state. My husband left to go back out on the road with Gary before our trip ended in CA, leaving me and my son there in CA. On new year's eve, the house was full of children and me and my in-laws. My mom-in-law called one of my husband's best friends, John, and asked him what he had planned for that evening. He said he was going dancing and so my mom-in-law asked him if he would take me. I was a little sad at the time, for my husband was out playing at a club, in another state, and there I sat with his parents and a house full of children. Anyway, John took me out dancing. I had so much fun just being around so many friendly people. I wasn't use to it. It seemed in CA, there is just an "air" of non-judgement there. At midnight, John kissed me on the cheek and I thanked him for entertaining me. We arrived back at my in-laws around 1:00 a.m. My mom-in-law was still up and she was mad and had been drinking quite a bit of champagne. She told me my husband had just called. I proceeded to call him back at his hotel. She told me "no". "You're not going to bother him now". She told me he said he just got back at the hotel and was going to bed. He told her to tell me he would talk to me the next morning. We argued and in the midst of the argument, it came out of her, "here it is 1:00 in the morning and you come in after partying with his best friend, while I've been stuck here babysitting your son". Whoa!!!! It was terrible. The next morning I called my husband (I tried calling him after she went to bed, but, he didn't answer his hotel phone). When I did get ahold of him, I told him what had happened and I wanted to change my flight and go home. He said no. The following morning as I laid in bed, his mother walked in and bowed down and said before kissing me on my forehead "I have to do this before I can go to church". My husband and family are Catholic. I knew nothing about the Catholic religion, being raised as a Baptist.
Telling this story took me to yet another story which I proceeded to tell. Daniel and Beth were asking questions along the way which prompted this next story. I had told Beth that during that Christmas visit that while her father was still there, we (the whole family) had a big fight on Christmas eve. My husband's sister had moved back into her parents' house. In her bedroom, she had posted a picture of my husband and his then financee. My daughter responds, "dad was engaged before meeting you"? Yes, I told the story of that engagement from what her dad had told me when we met. At that time, a few years before he met me, he was living with a girl named Linda. She looked very much like my husband's current wife. He was on the road with the Oak Ridge Boys and sending his paychecks home to Linda. Well, one day, he came home early from the road, a show was cancelled, and when he walked in, he walked in to find his best friend in his robe. Of course, that ended the engagement.
Now, today, I understand why my husband's mother reacted the way she did when I came in that new year's eve. I wonder if I realized that at the time and just forgot until I remembered the story again today.
The thing with these stories is that in passing down the stories to my children, I see so much clearly today. Actually, humorous. I know at the time the stories were unraveling they were very hurtful, experiencing all the emotional upheavals in their time. Yet, today, they just make sense.
Right after my divorce, while I was telling all these stories and many, many more to Dan, they were coming from a place of hurt, a place of resentment. It seems when you can tell the sad stories from a place of wisdom, not a place of healing, they no longer exist, except as a story about a "past" leading to wisdom.
It's funny how the last couple of years with my ex I spent putting together puzzles. My mother-in-law suggested crafts to me when I first married her son. At that time, I began latch hook. In all actuality, I was closer to her than my husband. It seemed she was the one who was always "here" for me since he spent the majority of our 20 some years on the road. It changed when I began telling her the real truth about what was going on. For whatever reason, a mother tends to only believe their child. That isn't true for me. But, anyway, as I was saying, I began putting puzzles together and then pasting them onto cardboard and hanging in our home. Today, looking back, it appears the entirety of my marriage with that man, was putting together pieces. When trust is lost, one has to put pieces together in order to try to make sense out of something which doesn't make sense. Or, is that true with life in general? It appears, being the curious one, I have always tried to put the pieces together. Now, seeing the "big picture", it makes sense.
The following Christmas, my husband (now ex - so just keep that in mind when I refer to him as husband), my son from my first marriage, was 9 at the time, and myself flew out to CA for Christmas. Everything changed. So much fighting, arguing. I wasn't use to this new found state. My husband left to go back out on the road with Gary before our trip ended in CA, leaving me and my son there in CA. On new year's eve, the house was full of children and me and my in-laws. My mom-in-law called one of my husband's best friends, John, and asked him what he had planned for that evening. He said he was going dancing and so my mom-in-law asked him if he would take me. I was a little sad at the time, for my husband was out playing at a club, in another state, and there I sat with his parents and a house full of children. Anyway, John took me out dancing. I had so much fun just being around so many friendly people. I wasn't use to it. It seemed in CA, there is just an "air" of non-judgement there. At midnight, John kissed me on the cheek and I thanked him for entertaining me. We arrived back at my in-laws around 1:00 a.m. My mom-in-law was still up and she was mad and had been drinking quite a bit of champagne. She told me my husband had just called. I proceeded to call him back at his hotel. She told me "no". "You're not going to bother him now". She told me he said he just got back at the hotel and was going to bed. He told her to tell me he would talk to me the next morning. We argued and in the midst of the argument, it came out of her, "here it is 1:00 in the morning and you come in after partying with his best friend, while I've been stuck here babysitting your son". Whoa!!!! It was terrible. The next morning I called my husband (I tried calling him after she went to bed, but, he didn't answer his hotel phone). When I did get ahold of him, I told him what had happened and I wanted to change my flight and go home. He said no. The following morning as I laid in bed, his mother walked in and bowed down and said before kissing me on my forehead "I have to do this before I can go to church". My husband and family are Catholic. I knew nothing about the Catholic religion, being raised as a Baptist.
Telling this story took me to yet another story which I proceeded to tell. Daniel and Beth were asking questions along the way which prompted this next story. I had told Beth that during that Christmas visit that while her father was still there, we (the whole family) had a big fight on Christmas eve. My husband's sister had moved back into her parents' house. In her bedroom, she had posted a picture of my husband and his then financee. My daughter responds, "dad was engaged before meeting you"? Yes, I told the story of that engagement from what her dad had told me when we met. At that time, a few years before he met me, he was living with a girl named Linda. She looked very much like my husband's current wife. He was on the road with the Oak Ridge Boys and sending his paychecks home to Linda. Well, one day, he came home early from the road, a show was cancelled, and when he walked in, he walked in to find his best friend in his robe. Of course, that ended the engagement.
Now, today, I understand why my husband's mother reacted the way she did when I came in that new year's eve. I wonder if I realized that at the time and just forgot until I remembered the story again today.
The thing with these stories is that in passing down the stories to my children, I see so much clearly today. Actually, humorous. I know at the time the stories were unraveling they were very hurtful, experiencing all the emotional upheavals in their time. Yet, today, they just make sense.
Right after my divorce, while I was telling all these stories and many, many more to Dan, they were coming from a place of hurt, a place of resentment. It seems when you can tell the sad stories from a place of wisdom, not a place of healing, they no longer exist, except as a story about a "past" leading to wisdom.
It's funny how the last couple of years with my ex I spent putting together puzzles. My mother-in-law suggested crafts to me when I first married her son. At that time, I began latch hook. In all actuality, I was closer to her than my husband. It seemed she was the one who was always "here" for me since he spent the majority of our 20 some years on the road. It changed when I began telling her the real truth about what was going on. For whatever reason, a mother tends to only believe their child. That isn't true for me. But, anyway, as I was saying, I began putting puzzles together and then pasting them onto cardboard and hanging in our home. Today, looking back, it appears the entirety of my marriage with that man, was putting together pieces. When trust is lost, one has to put pieces together in order to try to make sense out of something which doesn't make sense. Or, is that true with life in general? It appears, being the curious one, I have always tried to put the pieces together. Now, seeing the "big picture", it makes sense.
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