The Back Story
I decided to start the new year by writing my last coming out letter. This letter was to my dad's parents. I am their only granddaughter. They have known me for 28 years. For the first 9 years of my life, I was the only grandchild they had. Then, my brothers were born. They have financially supported me over the years. They helped chip in for my first car as a surprise on my 16th birthday- a little green Honda Civic I named Miguel. They also chipped in when it was time for me to go to college.I've never lived close to my grandparents, but we always saw each other at least 2 times per year on Thanksgiving and Christmas. But things get complicated when you get older. You don't live with your nuclear family any more. You have to meet your family at your grandparents' house for the holidays because you are driving yourself from your undergraduate university and not riding with your nuclear family like you used to. You start dating people, and then you have to balance going to see their family with going to see yours. You get engaged and realize that you are forming your own home. You get married, and you have a spouse that you share dogs, a home, and responsibilities with. Things get complicated.
Shit hit the fan for me during Thanksgiving 2017. I had written my dad a letter because things had been getting ridiculous. He was not happy with the fact that that year, I was not going to visit his parents at their home in Charlotte. I had my two dogs and my fiancé with me, I was in the middle of my semester at Divinity School, I had just gotten a concussion, I had just moved into my future in-laws' basement, and I had to preach on Sunday at the church where I was interning. It was not a good time to go visit his parents. I disliked my dad's unhappiness with my decisions, so I decided to write to him.
I was getting married in January 2018, and there were a lot of things that needed to be discussed. I no longer felt comfortable going on trips where I showed up by myself and pretended I was single. I was not going to hide the fact that I was married. I was not going to remove my wedding ring in the company of disapproving family for the sake of their comfort. I was not going to treat my wife differently and hurt her for the sake of anyone else's comfort. Imagine me snubbing my wife, rejecting her hugs, pushing her hand away when she reached for mine, or calling her by her first name instead of using names like baby, love, and beautiful. No longer afraid, and unashamedly, I reached out to my dad, and it did not go over very well.
My dad wrote me a letter back, and it was ugly. I copied and pasted his letter on an older blog if anyone wants to go back and read it. But during Thanksgiving 2017, after I told my dad that I could no longer manage a life of hiding, pretending, and secrecy around him and his parents... after I told my dad I was going to write to his parents and officially get everything out in the open... he decided to beat me to the point. In his words, he and his mother mourned the fact that I was "going through with this step of my lifestyle." He refuses to call my relationship a marriage. He refused to come to my wedding even though I told him he could come, sit in the back, and not participate. He got to my grandmother before I had the chance to explain myself, talk about my true self, and tell her the part of my story I had not yet told her.
Grandma Martha
My grandmother used to write me longhand letters in the sloppiest cursive handwriting. I have deciphered the letters slowly since I first learned to read. After my dad beat me to my grandmother, the letters stopped. The phone calls stopped. On my 28th birthday, I did not get a phone call filled with singing and excitement. I used to get cards on Valentines Day, Easter, Saint Patrick's Day, Halloween, and Christmas. They were filled with words and stories. My grandmother would tell me about what books she was reading, what she was learning in church, and what silly things her piano students were doing.
I have gotten 2 cards since my dad's conversation with her- one for Christmas 2017 and one for Christmas 2018. They were bleak. Simply a "Merry Christmas. Love ..."
You used to write me! You used to share with me. You used to say how proud you were of me and all the hard work I was doing. What happened? What is this shadow that has been cast over the things that I do and the person that I am?Who placed this shadow? Looming. Darkening me. A shadow that will cause some to blame every bad thing that happens to me on my gayness, and a shadow that will give some reason to not celebrate anything that is good in my life. The good that comes to me will never be as bright.
A New Year
Every year on December 31st, we ring in a new year. People make new years resolutions, promises, and swear to big life changes. I wanted 2019 to be a new year for me. I wanted to reach out to my grandmother. I wanted her to respond to me. I told her that I was finally ready to tell her about who I am and who I have always been. I told her I was finally ready for her to see part of who I am from my own heart and perspective. I told her that I was aware that she had changed the amount amount of phone calls and length of letters. I also told her I knew that I had not reached out either. I was staying away. But instead of continuing the pattern, I wanted to get everything out in the open. This is my wife... this is my new address... we just bought a house... this is my new last name... we got another dog together... Grandma, please tell me how much contact, if any, you wish to have with me. Please tell me if you care about me still. Please tell me if you wish to see me.The Wait
It has been a month now, and I have gotten no response. I do not know if I will ever get a response.This past weekend, my nuclear family went to visit my Charlotte grandparents. It was my grandfather's 84th birthday. I did not go. I did not call. But I did get a text message from my dad saying, "If you haven't already done so, it would be nice if you could call and wish dad a happy 84th birthday." Again, he is unhappy with the change in communication that has happened between my grandparents and I. Little does he know, I did reach out and make an attempt at civil communication with his parents. I wrote that 2019 letter. I have gotten no response or call in return. So many birthdays have already passed with no phone calls; they've neither been given or received.
The Shadow
I am afraid that this shadow is long-reaching... this shadow that has been placed over me by some. Some cannot see me without it. Strangely, I see no shadow at all. I just notice that for some, it is easier to blame me for the way I am being treated by them. I deserve it. It is my fault. If I changed, divorced my wife, and married a man, I could prevent such treatment. I am responsible for the way others treat me. I am asking for it.Who controls your lips? Who controls your mind? Who controls the words that come out of your mouth? Who controls what words your hands and fingers write? Who controls how you choose to treat people? I personally do not think that anyone can control the thoughts, words, or actions of others. All of us will be held accountable for how we treat people.
And so there is a shadow that has been placed over me. Others have put it there, and others think that I should do whatever it takes to make it go away. However, I do not own this shadow. It is not mine to blow away. It is not mine to run from. It is not mine to cast light on. I cannot control it because I did not create it. These shadows represent the ways that some have chosen to react to me and treat me. These shadows represent many who think I am responsible for their actions.
I can do nothing about the shadow you see, for the shadow you see is of you and not me.
