The Right Thing

Today is my 29th birthday. Due to the Covid -19 situation, tonight it's just me and Christine hanging out at home. I didn't want to chance her or I getting sick, since the pandemic just started a few months ago. Instead, I spent the day at home watching TV and working on my side business. It was a quiet day with my cat and I snuggling together. When she gets home, she brings in the mail.

Christine walks in and I can tell she has bad news. She asks me, "Do you want this now or after diner?" Christine has on card in her hand, and I instantly feel my stomach drop.

"After dinner, I don't want to deal with that right now," I shake my head and pet Lady Grey who has decided to take a nap on my lap. As I sit there, I start to think about what's in the letters. I say, "Go ahead. Give them to me, just not that one." Christine happily hands the cards over except the card in question.

As I am flipping through my mail, I have received a few cards and one stands out. My sister has sent me a card, which in a good family is nice, but in mine, it sends shivers and fast heartbeats. Christine doesn't know what my sister's hand writing looks like because she doesn't send cards or anything else for that matter. So, this card isn't the one she's concerned about me opening.

As I'm opening my sister's card, I notice a few things. It’s not the usual birthday card. Just flowers and her usual large scrawling hand inside. It’s just well wishes for a new year and her name. Then, I notice there’s no HAPPY BIRTHDAY! There’s no confetti or cutting jab about getting closer to 30. Nothing two sisters born as Irish twins would typically send to each other. It was something you would send to an acquaintance, not a sister.

I wonder how this got through Christine’s precursor glances. So, I ask her, “Babe, did you mean to give me this letter to me from my sister?”

"No.....” she walks over to take a glance at the card before I through it away. “Shoot! I meant to give you those cards after dinner. Your sister never writes you, so I didn’t know. Since you’ve seen this one, do you want to go ahead and read the other one?”

“Sure.... Hand it over.” she goes to the far counter in the small galley kitchen and hands me a large envelope. I open it up to find a card that folds open into three and one hidden fourth page.

I take a deep breathe in and let a long breathe out. This is the first card I’ve gotten from my mother since Easter. And, this one was a doozy. Typically, my mom finds the most heartfelt card, throws a gift (check, gift card, etc). This time it’s a check. This means she wants to know I got the card. She'll know I get it when I deposit the check and it gets pulled out of her account. This isn't the first time she's manipulated me financially. I'm just lost for words...Seriously?!

With the cards she picks, there’s usually some sappy wording on the front about how she misses me or loves me so much or remember all the good times or you need to get over this. This card has all that and then some. Again, this card isn’t the typical celebration card. But, it's very different from my sister's in a whole different, sick way.

It’s a card with a message, and it’s deeply urgent for her. The message is all about her and never about me. It's too bad she couldn’t celebrate the one day a year that’s actually about me. Unfortunately, I'm not too shocked, more annoyed than anything.

I had to share my birthday with my sister every year. We are 10 months and 1 day a part in age. Her birthday is in April and mine is in June. Whenever we did family dinners, I always picked food my sister would like rather than my favorite food. When we did presents there was always a gift for each of us. My birthday was never just mine or just about me.

With the weight of history, I open the card to scan the inside, and I notice two things:

1. That she wrote the same message as always: Happy Birthday(Christmas, Easter, Valentine's Day, etc.), H. I love you. I hope you’re well. I miss you. I hope to see you soon. xoxo, Mom

2. There’s a long inscription on the opposite side. This is not normal. So, she not only had written a short message at the end of the card‘s text, but she wrote a long winded paragraph on one of the blank sides of the card. This was new. I had never gotten a sweeping paragraph before. I read the whole paragraph and at the end of it she says. “I know you’ll do the right thing.”

My head starts spinning, "What the FUCK does that mean?"

I know what it means, and my mom knows that I know what it means. She is mad I've cut off contact for the last year. She's mad I'm engaged to a woman. She's mad she doesn't have access to me any more. She's mad I've gotten out. She's mad she doesn't control my decisions any more. But, now, I'm mad.

My mind starts to race: How bout you do the right thing by apologizing for abusing me! How about you tell my sister to stop abusing me! When will you say I’m sorry I hurt you? When will you stop making this about you and how you’re in pain? I haven’t done anything to you but be a good daughter. I’ve made mistakes like any human, but I’m a good person. And, I try my best. How DARE YOU?

And, then, it hits me -

This isn’t about me at all. It’s about what my wedding will do to her. It’s about what cutting ties with my family will do to her. It’s about what not playing her games will do to her. It’s about what not participating in the bullshit will do you her. This has nothing to do with me at all. It's always about her. And, I refuse to let her ruin the one day a year I can celebrate myself.

A "simple birthday card" had now completely reminded me why I left, why I stopped feeding into her sickness, why I want nothing to do with either of them. I remember my choice even more clearly now. I remember the hurt, pain, and anger. I remember that I deserve better and true love.

So, I take the pale pink, sappy, and lovelorn card from my Mother and throw it in the trash. This was the fucking right thing to do. I feel relieved and healed.

Then, I look over to the love of my life making my birthday dinner and remember all the reasons I want to spend my life with her. All the reasons I stopped letting my mMother rule my life. All the reasons I didn’t go back every time she reached out. My heart and body felt full of warmth and love for the world and family we are creating together.

I smile at her and say, “Hey! Babe, what’s for dinner?”