The Empty Tray

"Mom, they sent home a tray of food for the sick one."

As my son handed me a leftover tray of food for his sick brother, I was struck with the realization that these people who were my family since I was a teenager made a calculated move to show me how little I mattered. They couldn't even send a tray for me, the single mom who held the family together and kept them connected to these kids when their father refused to speak to them.

Imagine being quietly written out of the story of your own life. 

Now imagine it happening over and over again, and you have to smile and pretend it doesn't hurt.

I guess I should give some background. Over ten years ago now my life was blown apart by an evil that I let in the front door. Why? Because I could never conceive of someone setting out to do that kind of harm. I'm naive and I used to believe everyone's intentions were pure, because mine always were. 

I have learned now.

When this woman stole my life and scooped up my abusive husband for herself (congratulations?), she also didn't allow my ex to speak to his family because they didn't worship her the way she wanted. For years he had no contact with his mother and siblings. I kept the communication lines open with my in-laws. I held the family together, brought the kids to see their family, and made sure they were not disconnected from them.

They both attacked me for it; she even threatened to put in the parenting plan that the kids couldn’t see "those people." But I didn't stop. My kids needed to see their extended family and play with their cousins. And honestly, I have been a part of and loved this family since I was in high school. For someone who lost her mom at 5, whose grandparents have passed on, whose dad moved 1500 miles away, and whose husband abandoned the family ... I needed that extended family. My heart was full one Christmas when my ex's mom told me "We will *never* stop inviting you. We love you and you're always our family."

Then about 4 years ago things changed. The mistress (she's now his wife, but I think we'll stick to calling her the mistress) must have realized that she couldn't control the narrative if I had contact with my ex's family. So, she suddenly granted him permission to see his family. There was one caveat: I had to be excluded from everything now. I'll give his brother credit for calling me and telling me all of the above, because it bothered him. He said that I was always welcome at his house, but he wanted me to know that my ex said he would not show up if I was at any family function because "it was so upsetting." 

So upsetting? He's the one who abandoned his family. Not me. I'm the one who held the family together and I'm the one who raised these kids alone. What is he upset about? That I'll see how bad he looks since he climbed into a bottle of alcohol for the last ten years? That I might remind everyone who actually showed up for the last ten years?

That phone call from his brother was about one of his kids' birthday parties that I had been planning to go to. I love those kids, and they still call me "Auntie," but to not bring drama to their party I bowed out. That was the last time I was invited to anything my ex was at. 

I've been included a few times over the years since then. I get last minute invitations if my ex cancels, and I'm ashamed to say I've gone every time. I feel like if I had more self-respect I just wouldn't go, but I miss having a big extended family and it hurts to be left out. 

Fast forward to yesterday. They had a big family get-together for Thanksgiving, and everyone went. I planned to spend the day organizing, and after 6+ hours I realized that the event was a huge holiday extravaganza like I used to love going to. I tried to put it out of my mind, but I kept ruminating on the mistress being included with the family she basically almost destroyed, and them accepting her like she hadn't called them names and cut them out of my ex's life for years upon years. 

But the part that pushed me over the edge? My kids coming home with leftover trays and one for their sick brother, but nothing for me. It's not because I needed the food; I cooked enough on Thanksgiving to feed my neighbors for the next week. It's because the absence of a leftover tray was a clear message, a signal. I live in the same house as 3 of my kids. They all walked in with trays and one for their brother. I'm a single mom with no extended family. They knew exactly what they were doing when they sent nothing home for me, not even a hello. 

Me - who gave them four grandchildren and kept every promise he broke.

Me - the single mom still living under the same roof as three of those kids.

They knew exactly what an empty tray would say.

And they sent it anyway.

It hurt. But it didn’t break me the way it once would have. Because two days earlier, my daughter reminded me of the greatest gift of all, and it's not just a tray of cold leftovers.

My daughter told me on Thanksgiving that I'm Nana now. She means my Nana, her great-grandmother, who passed away 11 years ago. Nana was the glue that held my extended family together, and home was wherever she was. She raised me after my mom died. I can't think of a better compliment from my daughter, even though I'm not yet a grandmother.

I think maybe she was gently acknowledging something bigger:

I lost the extended family I was born into - my mom at five, grandparents gone, my dad 1,500 miles away, big family gatherings just memories now.

Then I lost the extended family I married into - the one I kept alive for years while he played dead to them.

Both tables are gone now.

But my daughter made me see that I've built my own. My daughter was saying that home is where I AM. The same feelings I had with Nana are how she feels with me, and how her brothers feel, and their significant others. And someday ... someday if they have children, they will too. 

No one will ever leave my home with an empty tray. No one.