Mending Fences

People in the South have long have long memories, especially if they think they have been wronged.  From the War of Northern Aggression, to a controversial play in the Iron Bowl, even bad service at a Cracker Barrel - nothing is ever forgotten. I can’t count the number of times my wife has reminded me that I forgot to buy her a homecoming corsage - in 1974.     

Sometimes when there are issues that involve family, time doesn’t heal the wound, it only makes it fester. Unfortunately, I know this is true.  

I can remember my mother and my aunt arguing over who was going to get my grandmother’s Hoosier cabinet - whatever that is.  It seemed so stupid.  After Mom died, my siblings agreed that we would not fight about who got what.  It’s not worth it, all of us said.  Sadly, that pact was broken by my brother and one of my sisters over some of Mom’s jewelry and Dad’s Purple Heart.  

However, where blood kin is concerned, words, both spoken and unspoken, can cause more hurt than any material thing.  Many times this leads to grudges and hearts that harden over time. 

I can relate. You see, my side of our family has felt the sting of such a hurt.  This wasn’t about a baby shower, or a tea, or even a piece of furniture - it was the death of one of my cousins. Her parents, my aunt and uncle, didn’t let us know she died.  We found out when I just happened to see the obituary in the local paper. 

My sister, who was close to her, was devastated.  My brother, who was close to my uncle, was both hurt and angry.  I was in disbelief.  How could family be marginalized like that?   Later, our aunt told us that her other daughters, our cousins, were supposed to let us know and just forgot.  There’s a collective self esteem builder.  

So we did what a lot of families would've done - we marginalized them right back.  If we weren’t important enough to be remembered, then we would just forget them.  Y’all have a nice life.  

And that is what happened. When my brother lost his wife to cancer three years later, we didn’t contact them.  An eye for an eye, you know.  

That was nine years ago. Now my uncle is 93 years old.  Despite some health problems, both he and his wife they are still sharp and engaging. 

How do I know?  Because my old friend and joke writing partner, John told me. One of his walking routes takes him past their garden home on a regular basis.  My aunt and uncle apparently like to sit on their driveway, enjoy the outdoors, and talk to the passerbys.  At some point they struck up a conversation with John, and soon their mutual connection to me was discovered. Coincidence?  Nope.  Anyone who has heard my story knows I don’t believe in them. Something greater was at work here. 

John periodically updated me on my relatives even though I told him there were some hurt feelings between us. His reports began to churn up uncomfortable thoughts.  It seemed like my conscious was talking to me, saying things like, “Isn’t it time to clear the air?  It’s important to say what needs to be said.  It’s time for mending fences.”  

Holding on to grudges is, to quote a notable college football coach, rat poison. The world is full of people who go to funerals and wish they had patched things up with the departed.  Maybe you are one of them.  What’s worse, I know people who have rejected apologies or attempts to set things straight. It’s sad.  Some unfortunates will even carry the grudge beyond the grave. That’s downright silly.  Think about it - you are actually allowing a dead person to have some control over your life. 

I decided I wasn’t going to be like that.  I have forgiven my son the addict, who did time in a Federal prison.  If I can put aside the truckloads of hurt he’s heaped upon me, surely I can forgive a family snub. However, I knew reaching out was going to be uncomfortable, and so I put it off.  But my inner voice kept prodding me, saying things like, “Quit being a wimp.  Take care of this unfinished business -  do it now.”  Finally, I picked up the phone and made what I knew was going to be an awkward call.  

I was wrong.  Calling my estranged relatives  reminded me of the first time I rode a roller coaster.  There was lot of nervousness and dread, but when finally I decided to get on the ride, it was enjoyable - and over quickly.   After a few minutes of pleasant conversation with my aunt, we arranged a time to get together.  

Several days later, I walked thru the door to their garden home, hugged my aunt and shook my uncle’s hand. What was going to be a 20 minute courtesy visit turned in to a rich 2 hour conversation. We talked about everything involving both sides of the family - except what divided us. The Incident was only alluded to once.  As I was leaving, I said, ”Don’t let something happen to any of ya’ll without letting us know about it.”  My aunt nodded. She understood. 

On my way home, I called my older sister and brother and told them what I had done. They were surprised and actually pleased that I had reached out. I’ve taken the first step.  Now it’s up to them to reestablish their ties. I believe they will. 

Why did I do it?  Because I’ve reached a place in my life that constantly reminds me I am mortal. Fortunately, I’ve come to realize that there are things that should be cleaned up before I walk through the doorway to the other side.  You do too. C’mon, take care of that unfinished business. 

Even if it’s just buying your wife a corsage you should’ve bought 48 years ago. 

Find more of my stories on my blog: https://mylifeasahobby.blogspot.com/?m=1. Also, follow him on Facebook at: Joe Hobby Comedian- Writer.