They start falling off like leaves in the autumn, these loosely tied human relationsips. They can be those joined by blood, or from a long shared life path, it doesn't matter. The invitations to tea, dinner, Thanksgiving and what not dissipate like mist in the sunshine. Sometimes, people are so wary of even saying hello while passing me by in a narrow corridor that they look straight ahead. They amuse me, these people who pretend that they care about me and my children, that they are not afraid of the contagion of separation and divorce, They pray at their temples and clap rhythmically at bhajans, they lend their mellifluous voices in collective devotion, yet they lack the one thing that a grieving family needs: they lack courage and they surely lack the honesty to face their own hypocrisy.
With a chuckle in my heart, I say hello to them when they pass me by. This startles them and they stumble over their own self righteous tongues to say hello. OMG, she talked to me, now I have to say something. I cannot pretend I didn't see her: Their eyes shuttered, they walk on by.
Others leave frantic messages on my answering machine when they know that their deliberate exclusions have been found out by the sharing of photos by well meaning friends. "Call me, we MUST talk. We haven't been in touch for so long" they shout breathlessly into their phones. This hammering of my virtual door leave me unmoved. Really.
It's okay, I want to tell them. Don't feel ashamed of your hesitation to invite me or my children to your homes, parties or shindigs. I know you are confused and scared. You have seen death and lived through it, we all have by this stage in our lives. But this is new for you, perhaps. The signing of papers leading to the systematic dissolution of a relationship that was considered to be picture perfect. But I am not washing my hands relentlessly like Lady Macbeth, just so you know. I did not kill anyone, I did not wish anyone gone. I am not contagious, neither is my condition. I am not out to ruin your party.
I have a busy life and a happy one. I know how to raise my children and they know how to raise me. We are okay, in case you wondered about that. The Village Grocer makes a yummy Thanksgiving dinner and we had fun. I am sure New Year's Eve will be wonderful for the children and me as we are happy together, We don't miss any forced bonhomie and shifty glances. You don't have to pretend anymore. You don't have to shout into my answering machine with your hilarious excuses.
You are encouraged however, in the interest of your own journey, to know that life does change. It's changing, even now for you. So don't add to my amusement with your shifty glances please. And please, oh please stop pretending that you care. It doesn't matter, really. Free yourself from this weight.
Amma used to say that when one leaf falls to the ground, new ones take their place.
The kids and I are fine. And better off without the hypocrisy of your pseudo solidarity.
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