Conflicted

(No, not the Tia some of y'all might remember from Carleton or my wedding or hanging out at my parents' house. The other one...who?)

Which makes sense. Since my father met my mother thirty four years ago my mother's elder sister has been a controversial figure. In the beginning, it was because of her unabashed dislike of my father. Chief amongst my father's transgressions was being, like my mother, an immigrant. From the moment she set foot in this country nearly forty years ago my tia has been on a never ending quest to become "more American."

The ways in which she's attempted to do this over the years are myriad and not worth recounting save for one- in insisting that her sister, whose care she was charged with when the Allende coup left my mother stranded in Chicago, marry an American.

Regardless of what my father is today, thirty four years ago, he was NOT what my tia wanted her sister to be dating.

This is when the war began.

My tia sought out new and creative ways to drive a wedge between my parents, eventually going so far as to create an elaborate lie about my father, that he had a wife and child back home that he was supporting.

When my mother refused to believe this lie the ultimatum was handed down. My mother was forbidden to see my father while she lived under my tia's roof.

So my mother moved out.

With time, that wound was healed and sins forgiven, such is the way of an immigrant family. We don't have enough family, enough support system to go throwing them away over something as silly as lies, misinformation and deceit.

Eventually my parents were married. I can't remember if she made it to the wedding or not. I want to say not to the church, but a token appearance at the reception, hosted by my future godparents.

A few months after the wedding a new skirmish cropped up. Namely, me.

For the first half of my life my tia was one of the most important figures in my life. She existed in the same pantheon as other luminaries as my aforementioned godparents...and the other two godparents as well.

Being that she literally lived down the road from me, we saw quite a lot of Tia growing up. She was always there, birthdays, Christmas, random Wednesdays. I remember putting together a swing set in her back yard for her grandchildren and watching Swan Lake (my introduction to ballet) with her in her basement (On Bravo, back when it was a really pricey premium channel. Remember that?) And sitting out on her deck with her, wondering when my parents would ever have a yard as nice as hers.

Then, without warning, she disappeared.

This wasn't like the time my father forbade her to see me when I was three years old and she, distraught by how repressed I was since I was such a quiet and well-mannered child, taught me how to pull curtains down and knock over furniture and create a general mess of my parents' apartment.

No, this disappearance was different. No words were said, no requests made. She just, *poof* went away and was rarely, if ever, heard from again.

The second half of my life is a series of missed events. She wasn't there for my high school or college graduation- though I did get a really nice check for $18 for the HS graduation in a card during Winter Break of my frosh year at Carleton.

And then there was my wedding.

After swearing up and down (via her daughter) that she'd be there with bells on and to save a dance for her, she never even responded to her invitation.

That was it, I was done with her. A few weeks after my wedding when my mother asked if I'd heard from her I told her I didn't have a Tia by that name. And I meant it.

For close to two years there wasn't a peep out of South Florida. None of us heard from her until this past spring I received a (late) birthday card in which she apologized for spacing out on my wedding and asking for my forgiveness. But, after all those years, after all those broken promises to be there. I'd given up on her. I thought that I just didn't have the time to waste on forgiving someone who had made a habit out of letting me down

And now she's in the ICU, having suffered a serious stroke that's since been complicated by pneumonia and everyone is freaking out.

Myself included.

I don't know what I did to cause her sudden departure from my life, and last night, I realized that all of the animosity I've built up towards this woman stems from this one issue. I just don't know how I drove her away and I've spent a lot of time blaming myself for something that is more than likely not my fault. I'm beginning to understand why I have such contempt for someone who used to be one of the most important people in my life.

But, I'm human and she is my tia. So, hearing of her illness I feel...something that conflicts with everything else I've been conditioned to feel. It's a mixed bag of emotions that I just don't know how to cope with at the moment.

Yeah, it's taken me two days to write this and it's still not right. But, I think that's really what this was about. Yknow?