NOT Family

I know that I am NOT family. 

Watching all of them together, happy and connected, in a way that I will never be…

I know that I am NOT family. 

Mother and daughter are NOT what I share with HIS mother. 

A sad, jealous eye watches the two of them, the way they interact and their history…

I know that I am NOT family. 

This morning, mother and daughter are talking about impending Mom’s heart surgery. I ask and and told, “I have to keep some things to myself“. (And my daughter) Of course, I understand, despite the Universe…

I know that I am NOT family. 

I worry about this woman as though she is / was my mother. I love her. 

I am pained about whatever may be wrong with her.  This 5 – 8 hour surgery that her Irish relatives are aware of – that she didn’t feel comfortable enough to share with me.  

Scared for her future, what should I be doing to help.  

What can I do for her dear husband? 

Knowing that her son, John, most certainly is aware of this surgery that will require so much time. 

Why are her eldest son (sensitive as he may be) and I being kept so far away?  Do they not know how difficult this is going to be on him WHEN he finds out?

He IS family. Do NOT leave him in the dark. Thus, leaving me to pick up the pieces. 

Prepare him, treat him like the man he is, instead of the shattered glass he will become. Then again, who am I to comment…

I know that I am NOT family. 

I am most certainly and terribly selfishly NOT her daughter. 

Where is MY FATHER??


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