WHERE PUSH COMES to SHOVE...
Well, it had to happen.

However, having grown up watching his mother, a local officeholder and justice of the peace, welcome many couples to our living room in winter and garden in the summer-- even, irony of irony, gay couples after civil unions came in a while ago--my son is asking his mother to perform the ceremony. At what was until recently OUR house.
So Isis is going to have to say all those words to her son and his bride with her ex-husband in attendance, which is not going to be easy. It was originally a non-wedding with only seven people attending: one couple, two siblings, two parents, and the one surviving grandparent, my card-sharp mother. Period. That was good for Isis, and good in one way for me: it made it clear why the Goat was not being invited; I had asked right away, and the answer was "no."
It was good to have a reason, at least.
But now they have decided to invite some friends and some family, and my family at that. That is not going to be easy for some people; my family was in and out of the house for twenty years, but has not been allowed anywhere near it since I moved out. It's true I have occasionally gone in to use the bathroom, but I have also otherwise halted on the porch steps when I came to pick up my daughter for a visit. I figured I wasn't welcome, and I didn't have to figure it out on my own...

I asked for the interview because I knew my presence at the wedding was going to be hard on her, and I wanted to tell her that I was willing to do anything [within reason] that would make it easier.
I learned several things during our meeting: she is facing my family with as much trepidation as she is me, which would never have crossed my mind; and it is all going to be at least as painful for me as it is for her. I had somehow lost track of that. But it's true: I will not be in a position to welcome my family or my son's friends to the house; I will literally be a guest in my own house.
That is going to hurt a lot.

The person who apparently does not have a right to be there--and only because it's a house wedding--is the Goat. His reaction to not being invited was not volcanic, but certainly... strong. It is also certainly true that if I had told him the whole story at once instead of trying to shield B from any possible resentment, things might have gone better. As it was, no amount of persuasion could bring his dudgeon down to a level where logic could operate. Even after I told the whole story. Even though there were only going to be the couple, the two siblings, the two parents, and the one surviving grandparent in attendance.
He did eventually [eventually!] make his peace with that, but then the guest list opened up, and we started all over again.

In a couple of years it might be OK, and I certainly hope that nobody else gets married for a while, because I am not backing down again. I asked my son to invite him, and he said he couldn't. Twice. I understood that; the Goat didn't. But to have him along on the first occasion on which I appear at all did seem to be asking a lot of a woman who has been doing her best to pretend I never existed.

If I hadn't known I had to do it, I would have never been able to stay and try to get her to say what she needed from me to make the occasion one she could enjoy for its main component, the happy event itself. I wish the Goat could understand that. In the meantime, he says he understands, but still carries his bruised feelings about a millimeter below the surface most of the time.
When I heard about the expanded guest list, I had to call B and ask him again point-blank if he would be inviting the Goat. He said no, he didn't think he could. I had to say that I not only understood and admired, but basically shared his concern for his mother's feelings. But I also had to say that I hoped the next time he would show a similar concern for mine. It is my determination, my grim determination, not to let this happen twice.

You know, I see many things more clearly now. I can see that the Inner Girl could only stay repressed for so long, and that the totality of her triumphal entry into the devastated remains of what had been the plainly male center of my being derived its power from the amount of time and effort that been spent on keeping her down and out of sight.
I can see that if I had ever had a lover like the Goat when I was young and less foolish, I might never have thought of marrying at all. I can see, now that I am desired for what I really am, how important that is to any kind of love. I was never able to give Isis that; I loved her to distraction, but I was not aflame with desire. I had never known what it felt like to experience that kind of love and that kind of desire at the same time. Now I do.

Between the only two people I have ever loved deeply.
Life just keeps throwing punches, and all we can do is roll with them.
Hang in there, guys.
C
It's time to make peace.
ReplyDeleteUnfortunately, it's often not an easy process. Just look at the Middle East.
I hope that everything works out...and it's good that you can see both sides.
ReplyDeleteTry to make it work...for your son's sake
ReplyDelete