Family estrangements can feel irreversible — but they don’t have to be. Here’s what I did
The estrangement happened years ago when I was very young.
For some reason, my uncle and aunt decided they didn’t like our family. They moved to another state. I lost contact with my only cousins. I never saw my aunt again.
To make matters worse, they refused to see our grandmother, the kindest person on the planet.
I never knew the real reason behind what happened. I only heard my parents’ version of the story. They said my aunt was a difficult person who blamed my uncle for all their woes.
None of that made sense to me. My uncle was a gentle, passive guy. He watched my tennis matches. He had a twinkly, wry sense of humor. There didn’t seem to be a malicious bone in his body. But I accepted their explanation and carried on with my life.
Still, there was a hole in my heart. I secretly harbored the loss. I missed having more relatives. I didn’t like knowing we couldn’t get along.
Sadly, the estrangements mounted for my uncle. We learned that he and my aunt eventually divorced and that his children turned against him. He didn’t even know where they were.
My uncle eventually remarried a lovely woman with a big happy family. Her grown children welcomed him as their own. She set the stage for him to reconnect with his estranged daughter (his two sons were still MIA) and arranged meetings so we could reacquaint. We visited him a number of times.
And while we were thrilled that he’d finally found happiness, my siblings and I felt abandoned. A new family now enjoyed our uncle’s affection while we, through no fault of our own, were cast aside. Whenever we spoke with him, he’d regale us with stories about his new clan, yet minimize any updates we’d give him about our families.
My uncle passed away last month at 96. While talking with my sister shortly after his service, she said, “You know we all were complicit in the schism.”
“How?” I wanted to know.
“We perpetuated the split. Did any of us try to reconnect the family? Or did we simply believe what we’d been told by our parents?”
Oh my gosh. She was right. I’d acted like the split was irreversible. I’d never reached out to my cousins to make any of it right.
So I decided to do it now. I could personally take the steps to heal the decades-long wound.
I searched the internet for info about my cousins and found nothing. Then I contacted my female cousin and asked if she knew the whereabouts of her brothers. She knew their addresses and emails but warned, “Good luck! I don’t know if you’ll get a response.”
But respond they did. And quickly. Each sent back a newsy email about his current living arrangements. One expressed regret that we hadn’t been in contact earlier.
I’m thrilled we’ve reunited. I plan to keep in touch. Will there someday be a big reunion? Can’t say for sure. I’m just glad we’ve reached across the divide. Seems it wasn’t as wide as we’d feared.
