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Are You Going to Screw Us Over at Christmas, Too?
It was the last time I got together with my dad. 7 weeks later he was dead.
In November 2020, we were tired. And sad. And scared. And all of the multilayered emotions that go with fatigue, despair and terror. My husband and I decided to spend Thanksgiving, just us and the kids, in a little cabin in the mountains to help keep everyone safe and attempt to reset and recharge.
My father was furious. He, too, was tired of it all, and felt that we should be together on his favorite holiday, sharing a meal, telling stories, and laughing with all of the grandkids. He and my stepmom could count on my stepbrother and his family to be there. One of my sisters and my brother also refused to gather in his home under potentially dangerous circumstances. Another sister and stepbrother would not be flying out for this one.
Among the six blended siblings, most holidays included only some of us. The mix in attendance was always comprised of scheduling logistics and/or prevailing relationships, but my oldest stepbrother and I were almost always guaranteed. But this time, this one, was just too much emotional stress and responsibility for me to handle. I wanted my dad to be around for other holidays.
