My Aunt Karen passed away a few days ago. Apparently, she had been ill and refused to get medical care, and died at home, and it took a wellness call to find out she’d been gone a few days.
Understand, when I write this, it’s only my perspective. I am sorry for my cousins. I am sorry for my mom and uncle. I am not sorry for me. I called out her toxicity decades ago before it was even a ‘thing.’
My aunt broke my mom’s heart. They were close in age and reminded me of when television shows in the 60s pulled that goofy trope where a cousin would appear, but wearing a brunette wig, and be a “twin” — think Samantha in Bewitched or Jeannie in I Dream of Jeannie. My aunt was the blonde. She was chaos.
My aunt went through a lot of trauma, as my mother and uncle. And there have been many documented studies about birth order, trauma, and ACES. Somehow, my mom managed to keep it together, and I know there was jealousy because my mom married my dad, who, in all aspects, was a wonderful man and father. My aunt did not marry a “wonderful” man. He was a sociopath, whose wake of destruction and toxicity did not limit his deeds to her and their children. I’ve written about the “one Christmas” before. And no, I haven’t forgotten about the second husband, and the car accident.
The many times my mom has been on the phone and cried.
Like a few days ago.
I think during the 90s, my aunt reconnected with an old boyfriend, who ended up being abusive as well. They lived with my grandmother and ended up pilfering thousands of dollars from my grandmother. They left her, near penniless, for my mother and uncle to take care of, which they did. Whatever inheritance my grandparents would have left was gone. The house was infested with termites and rot. My mother, and I presume my uncle, paid to restore it and sell it, and cleaned up the financial disaster.
After my grandmother passed, I know my mom reached out to my aunt to try to repair the relationship. She tried multiple times. And my aunt shunned her.
I think it was the shame, the deep, unabiding shame. Sometimes, when we witness our loved ones, including friends, in deepest pain and shameful acts, they need to desperately not acknowledge the harm they caused. They will not, cannot, maintain the connections. My mother’s life and all my mother and father worked for and achieved was a painful reminder of how she went down another path, sometimes against her will.
Reading her obituary, I see how her life was reimagined. She transformed into a doting grandmother. And I believe she was.
So, Aunt Karen, rest in peace. I will always be fiercely protective of my mother and do my best to let my heart have peace. We are allowed to revise our pasts or not confront them, I suppose, but there are always storytellers who write truth with love.
PS And I still miss Heidi (my Great Dane).