I was thinking about my in-laws the other evening. I loved them, and haven’t seen them in nearly 10 years. They are a close knit family, grounded, smart, and unpretentious. We communicated in an amusing mix of languages, and got along well for more than a decade.
I remember how proud my father-in-law was when I produced the first grandsons – one right after the other. Yes – he wanted boys, and boys he got, to carry on the family name which could be traced back to 13th century church records.
Family
The Catholic church that is, and I’m not Catholic (nor are my boys). But that was never an issue; the family wasn’t religious, but they were traditional. We celebrated a careful combination of holidays, honoring a diverse and rich heritage.
We still do so, with relish.
In reminiscing (it happens this time of year), I was recalling family Christmases in Europe, with the noisy gathering of four generations that included children, grandchildren, and even great grandchildren.
Trips
During any visit, there were drives on desolate roads from one tiny rural town to another, to see an uncle or a cousin. There were days and nights of delectable foods, wonderful drink, and lively discussion. There were long breakfasts over piping coffee and honey bread, lunches that were multi-course affairs extending over hours, light suppers of charcuterie and salad, followed by conversation and porto that went until late, and we needed to sleep. Everything was both simpler and richer, moving at a more leisurely pace.
I used to travel overseas on business, and I’d take my wiggling, smiling babes with me whenever I could, entrusting them to my in-laws who were thrilled to see their grandsons. My mother-in-law would make her famous leek soup (delicious), and my father-in-law would teach me more expressions in his regional dialect, laugh at my pronunciation, then drive me to the high-speed train and I’d be off to do the corporate thing, knowing my babies were in good hands.
Baths and babies
Earlier this week I chuckled while reading Black Market Baptism, compliments of a caustic counselor’s random musings. It reminded me of my own boys’ baptism by bubble bath (or so the tale unfolded, years after the fact). It seems, during one or two of those business trips when my sons were in the care of their grandmother, she may have performed an “emergency baptism” on each, in the bath… “just in case.”
My former in-laws are not religious. In fact, they only attend church for weddings, baptisms, and funerals, even though the lovely edifice with its tolling bells sits in the center of the small town square, barely a block from their home.
So when I heard about the emergency baptism, all I could do was smile. As for the gods of any faith, if they were watching, surely they’re in favor of contingency plans gifted, in secret, by a well-meaning grandmother.
Aftermath
When the marriage ended, my ex’s family cut all ties with me. That was the beginning of a long series of difficult lessons – the collateral damage when I do becomes I don’t. Divorce is a dismantling of two families; it is more than two people ending a relationship and dividing up assets. It is more than children shuttled between homes or living with one parent and rarely seeing the other. Divorce, for some of us, is a hundred tiny hurts that pop up when you don’t expect, and linger over the years.
I made certain – as I did when they were babies – that my sons knew their European side; my elder son in particular has forged close bonds with the cousins, aunts, and uncles. But for me, missing those I considered family resurfaces this time of year. So I cling to memories – sweet memories – of another time, and acts of love.
© D A Wolf
Very nice thoughts
Reading this hits me deeply: that your in-laws cut off all ties with you post-divorce. Ouch. You clearly are such a strong, grounded woman to be able to work through that disappointment and write this post with so much love. Bravo.
That’s poignant. I’ve sometimes considered what it would be like if my wife and I ever split. I’m so used to her family and the boys are half Mexican. What would they do with their Mexican side of the family? Would they ever see them again? You’re right. It’s more than immediate family that is affected. It’s a bunch of ancillary little considerations as well.
I married into an Italian family. While my in-laws lived here, there were plenty of relatives in Italy for us to visit. I too recall long multi-course lunches, piping hot coffee, small towns, winding drives, etc. Europe is wonderful, even more so when there is family to visit there.
My ex’s family severed almost all ties to me. I occasionally run into my in-laws if they are watching the kids for my ex, but other than that, they cut me off completely. It goes with the territory of divorce, I suppose. (Though my parents didn’t cut my ex out – they still bring her xmas cookies and the occasional gift.)
I love the honesty and longing laced through this piece. I think the “collateral damage” of broken relationships is underexplored terrain. It is rarely the severing of two people, but more typically the exit from an entire world. I am not acquainted with the experience of divorce (thankfully), but I think you touch on something more universal here, namely the progression from one time (and one world) to the next. I think it speaks to your wisdom and character that you are able to touch upon your sweet memories like this.