After my grandfather split with my grandmother, he married a German woman. They had a girl, my aunt D. My grandfather was very wealthy and very strict. My mom told me that she never felt loved by either of her parents. That breaks my heart but I can relate. I felt love from my mom but not from anyone else in my family. The notion of "family" is foreign to me. I only know what I see on TV and in movies. The fairy tale depiction of family is something I've yearned for but never experienced. I think this was missing in my mom's life too.
When she was 17, she ran away from home to marry my father. The two then moved in with my dad's family and eventually left Ecuador for the US to pursue the "American Dream". First they lived in New York, then Miami which is where all three of their children were born. She was pregnant years before my brother but she lost the child.
My parents split when I was 10 and my mom's dream of having her own "Leave it to Beaver" family was shattered. As a result, she lived a life of loneliness, depression and suffering---never quite living in the moment but either looking back or forward to the day that she would be with Jesus. I often wonder how different my life would be if my mom had turned to her Jewish roots instead of converting to Christianity. Christianity has scarred me which is why I have such an aversion to it.
My mom was so blinded by her desire to start a family that she didn't really consider who she was marrying. Had she taken a good hard objective look at my dad, she'd have seen just what she was getting.
My mom was cultured, well-educated and my dad was a thug. In short, she was too good for him. My grandfather was very vocal about his disapproval of my father and shortly after this, someone in the gang that my father hung out with shattered a bottle over his head.
My father was a drunk. He used to beat my mother, call her a Jew and spit on her. Once my mom told me he raped her. He used to hit me too and once, when he was drunk, he chased me with a hatchet and I had to lock myself in a room and climb out the window.
I hate my father. I always have. I cannot even begin to explain how much I resent him for all the things he's done. Maybe if he'd been a better husband and father, my siblings wouldn't have turned out to be so apathetic.
When he died, I was devastated not for the loss of my father but for the realization that I would never have the relationship with my dad that I had always hoped for.
When I was around 19, I met my (former) BFF and his family. I managed a record store and my BFF worked there. We ended up hanging out all the time and he introduced me to his family. He had 7 siblings. His parents were very sweet, especially his dad who was more like a father to me than my own. Their last name was "White" and I used to call their home "The White House".
It really bothered my mom that I spent so much time there but I told her once that I hung out there because they were more like a family to me than my own family and it has been that way for most of my adult life.
I regret saying that to my mom because it hurt her. I was the last of her children still living at home and I preferred a stranger's family to ours. So she made Jesus and the church her family. And that put a wedge between my mother and I that stayed there for the rest of her life.
Of my mom's 4 siblings, she was closest to her younger brother, my uncle who is really the only "family" that I have left. He still calls me and emails me regularly. Since his son lives in the Bay area, he comes here to visit sometimes and I always see him. He's been struggling a lot lately. All his money was tied up in a plant in Mexico for many years and he finally sold the plant.
My uncle made millions in his lifetime but he lost much of it. He did take care of my mom and would send her money when she got sick. He would also fly her out to see him, help her with travel to come out to see me. Once he flew both of us out to NYC for my cousin's wedding. I sort of can't stand my cousins on that side of the family. They're all a bunch of snobs but I went to NYC just the same because I wanted to see my mom (I had flown from LA whereas she had flown from FL).
My mom's older brother is a nasty old fart. In fact, my brother who really loathes this uncle has turned out just like him. It's uncanny how their personalities are complete identical. Both are arrogant, judgmental, condescending and insensitive. My brother is completely incapable of doing any self-reflection or he'd see this. My sister sees it too...but she ain't no princess either.
My mom's full-blooded little sister was like a character out of a Pedro Almodovar film. She was boisterous, loved her men and loved her booze. My aunt was the polar opposite of my mom. She came to visit one Christmas when I was 12, got very drunk and started dancing around in her bra and panties to "Miss You" by the Rolling Stones. She was married once to a wealthy Dutch business man. They had two children and divorced years later.
My aunt died of liver cancer in 1997. My nice uncle and this aunt hadn't spoken in years. She invested in his business which went under and she lost a lot of money. My aunt had moved to Southern California to be near her daughter which is when she was diagnosed with liver cancer. My nice uncle paid for my mom to go out there for a couple of weeks to care for her sister.
Coincidentally, I was in California at the time even though I lived in New York. This is when I was working the gay pride events for my brother. His partner and I had worked the West Hollywood event that weekend so afterwards he took me to Orange County to visit my mom and Aunt at hospice. I was utterly horrified at what I saw.
My aunt was a shadow of her former self. She was emaciated and so loaded up on morphine that she just looked at me with glazed eyes. I hugged her very fragile body. My mom was so excited that I was there, she took out her camera and wanted me to pose with my aunt. I told her not to but she took pictures anyway.
My mom was obsessed with her cameras and took pictures all the time. She wasn't much of a photographer but she was very passionate about documenting her travels and moments with family on film. I have all her pictures now. It hurts to look at them.
When my brother's partner and I left my aunt's room, we got in the elevator and both started to cry. Then we held each other. I was never a fan of my brother's partner and that's probably the closest I've ever felt to him. It was truly heartbreaking. I want to remember my aunt as wild and wonderful and not clinging to the morphine drip on her deathbed.
When my mom was dying, she kept talking to her sister as if she was in the room.
And then there's my mom's half-sister, Aunt D. She's the only one who remained in Europe. She was born in Ecuador but my grandfather eventually moved to Holland which is where they all lived for a while. I remember seeing Aunt D as a child when I went to Holland. Around the time I graduated from NYU, she was in New York so I got to hang out with her, her husband--17 years her junior and an arrogant douchebag who I'm convinced married her for her money. Did I mention how wealthy she is?
When my grandfather died, he didn't have a will so my mom's stepmother inherited all of it. My mom nor her full-blooded siblings never saw a penny. It went to Aunt D and my cousins. My aunt ended up investing in a chain of fur stores in Belgium and became an even wealthier woman. She's traveled the world, had loads of plastic surgery and is a vein, arrogant, insecure woman. Another one that's the complete opposite of my mom. At least my other Aunt wasn't a snob. Aunt D is such a snob it's disgusting.
That side of the family frowned on my mom because she was broke. That time in New York, my aunt gave my mom a few hundred bucks (a drop in the bucket for her) and went back to Belgium. My mom took pictures documenting our time together. She sent some to my aunt along with a card. My aunt never responded. She also would send holiday cards to that side of the family but they never responded. She knew that my mom had cancer yet 13 years went by before I heard from her.
When my mom was in hospice, my aunt called my cell. I had no idea who she was. "Who is this?" I asked. The connection was bad. "This is your aunt D". It took a minute. Then I remembered, oh yeah I have another Aunt. I had forgotten about her because she wasn't much of a sister to my mom so why now? She wanted to know how her sister was. "Dying," I told her. "She's dying."
I put my mom on the phone who was delirious and made no sense. My aunt sounded seriously disturbed when I got back on the line with her. She started asking about my life and I told her that I had been taking care of my mom for the last year and a half. She asked if I wanted to come to Belgium after my mom died. I said yes. She said she'd get me a ticket.
My mom had moments of lucidity mixed with her delirium. I told my mom that her sister had called and offered to send me to Europe. "Should I go?" I asked my mom. "Maybe," she said. Not very encouraging.
I went to Belgium for a month after my mom died and it was probably the loneliest time of my life. Not only was I surrounded by a bunch of snobs I had nothing in common with, I was completely cut off from my friends in the states because I barely had internet. I got a bus pass and went to Antwerp often. I drank a lot by myself. There were a couple of places that had internet so I'd go online briefly but it was expensive.
My aunt, cousins, her arrogant husband all spoke in Dutch more than half the time I was there. Then my aunt would remind them that I didn't understand Dutch. A friend of mine in Berlin invited me to go visit him. He even offered to buy the train ticket from Brussels but I didn't want to offend my aunt. I so wish I'd have gone to see my friend.
My aunt had this huge New Years party and she wanted me to dress up for it. She offered to buy me a dress because she didn't like any of my clothes. We went shopping downtown and she made me try on all kinds of dresses---none that I liked. She was very controlling and downright rude. In the end, she spent a few hundred Euros on a dress I wore once and that still sits in my closet.
She also decided to tell me that my mom lost her first child because my father beat it out of her. That was something I never knew and something I really didn't want or need to know.
While I was there, she kept praising my cousin-- the nice uncle's daughter who I really can't stand. She went to NYU around the time I did and she never made any effort to hang out with me. I went to the art school. She went to the business school. I ended up living a life of poverty while my cousin went on to become an investment banker and has made millions. Like so many others on that side of the family, she looks down on our little branch. She travels the world. Even though my aunt hates my nice uncle, she loves his daughter. If I had the kind of money my cousin has, I bet my aunt would love me too.
When I left, she gave me 300 Euros which isn't a whole lot in American dollars. I guess she felt that by flying me out there, she had fulfilled her obligation to my dead mother thus appeasing any guilt she felt for ignoring her for 13 years.
Before I went to Belgium, my aunt and my cousins from that side of the family all requested to be my "friend" on Facebook. One of my cousins is actually okay. She's free-spirited, rebellious and has dred locks which really annoy the hell out of my aunt. While they've remained my "friends" on facebook, none of them ever reach out to me except the rebellious one.
Today is Belgian National Day. I decided to post on my aunt's facebook wall to wish her a happy holiday and I noticed she has defriended me. Not quite sure why but it did hurt my feelings. It has to be pretty recent because I recall not too long ago seeing pictures in my feed of her and my cousin-- the investment banker snob. Apparently, they're BFFs. Ironic how she is no longer speaking to her father.
The only thing I can think of that might have offended her was the picture I shared relatively resently. It said "Family is not about blood. It's about who is willing to hold your hand when you need it the most".
Well, it's true. My mom needed her hand held by her family and the only one there was her younger brother while the rest of the snobs didn't care. My older uncle was a banker in NYC for many years and is also very wealthy. Those people are all about money and wealth.
My cousins on my dad's side of the family have tracked me down on facebook and they seem very nice and warm---the complete opposite of my mom's family. That's the latin culture. Unfortunately, my Spanish is terrible so I have to use the online translator. One of my cousins lives in Brooklyn. I want to go to NYC and meet him. The rest are still in Ecuador.
When I went to Belgium, it was my mission to try every Belgian beer I possibly could and I came pretty close. I also indulged in an authentic Belgian waffle. It was really impossible to not think of this golden oldie as I munched away on a Belgian waffle...
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