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Sunday, March 15, 2015

Better late

It's not that I haven't known about you, niece, so what do I say when you ask why haven't I been in touch for 30 years?  It's an in-you-face question;  if I were writing it in a novel, it would trigger a tsunami of guilt. Instead I acknowledge,  but explain it's not easy to know what I could have done that would have made a difference in your circumstances.

So I'm in South Carolina (no snow!) with a team of family members (in fact, it's wonderfully warm!) for a week of cleaning up a house prior to sale as a part of managing your estate for your benefit, over your resistance.

You're like my brother in so many ways, and I couldn't deal with him. Distance, your mother's coldness, the enormity of the challenge of relationship daunted, not your grandmother, but certainly me.

Exculpatory prudence or cowardice as it was, here I am. Somehow recrimination seemed not to be the driving force of our encounter today. A week with hard choices and confrontations lies ahead, however.



 

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