Thirteen years ago when my mom died, my brother and his wife stopped talking to us. We honestly don't know why, but we've heard they were upset because we weren't at the hospital enough which we really can't do anything about after the fact.
We were definitely in different life stages at the time. Sam and I had a first grader and a fourth grader and lived four hours away from the hospital. Two of their kids were in college, the third was a high schooler who could drive and they lived only a little over an hour away from the hospital.
We weren't too worried about them, though, because the ten years prior to my mom's death, they didn't talk to my sister. No one knew why, but she couldn't even get a "hi" out of them.
What hurt the most over the past thirteen years is that their children, who had spent countless hours with Sam and I at Twin's games and the Mall of America and overnighters, did not talk to us either, specifically when their parents were around.
Fortunately, the two youngest would text. My youngest niece knew that I wanted to meet her son Liam (1) yesterday. I saw her alone. I grabbed my sister and for half an hour, we got the scoop. It was great! We met Liam, too.
The groom, more or less, off and on, we've been in contact with. He's good at defying his mother. Talking to him wasn't crucial. We'd had supper at his house the year before.
My oldest niece, however, up until 7:00 p.m. last night, had not even look at us for the past thirteen years. As my sister and her hub were getting ready to leave with Dad, she came over to tell her grandfather good-bye. She was standing there awkwardly and I chose to bridge the gap.
"How was distance learning for you?" She's a school teacher, too. For the next hour, after my Dad's car left for Iowa, my niece, her husband and three daughters talked with Sam and I. Two of the daughters I had never met. It was wonderful, to say the least. I now have her cell phone number and am ever thankful that wall is down.
