Carolyn Hax: After her mother's death, a no-show aunt compounds her grief

Washington Post

6 days ago

Dear Carolyn: It has been 3½ years since my mom died in a car accident. We were extremely close. The accident was eight weeks before my wedding and a year before I welcomed my first child.
Needless to say, it has been a difficult few years for me — full of numbness and immense grief. Adding to the trauma of losing my wonderful mom so suddenly and right before big life events, my aunt, who lives 40 minutes away, attended my wedding and then completely disappeared from my life. I have no other relatives close by.
I have not received one call or text to see how I am coping. Nothing on my mom's birthdays or the anniversaries of her death. She also knew from other relatives that I was pregnant and gave birth to my son but never reached out.
Her lack of care has shocked me, even if it has not shocked others. My aunt never seemed overly interested in my brother or me or any extended family, for that matter, but we did see each other a few times a year since my childhood and have always been warm.
Since my mom's death, I have been invited by other relatives to family events, which I have turned down because the thought of seeing her after receiving no support in my grief makes me sick to my stomach.
I am trying to decide if it is best to confront my aunt with my disappointment, hurt and grief. My aunt's actions (or lack of) have really compounded the trauma surrounding my mom's death. I have learned the past few years that people are scared of grief, and she may be running from her own, but boy, has it made my own healing process harder.
— Grieving Daughter
Grieving Daughter: I am so sorry about your mom. That is awful.
Please forgive me for making this personal: My own mother died right before I remarried and had children, so, while her circumstances allowed time to prepare, I can relate to going through these enormous life changes while grieving Mom.
But I am also a pragmatist. (Who still weeps over Mommy.) And here's what I see:
You've let your aunt fixation keep you from other family members — who aren't and will never be your mom, of course, but who share in collective memories and could encircle you in your grief and love your kid.
That's all you need them to do: be part of your root system, holding you and your boy in place. I understand they don't live close, but they're making themselves available as they can.
Ironically, your devastation at not having your aunt there for you as you thought you would has lulled you into not feeding the root system of your child's nuclear family. I hope you see this.
I don't mean to minimize what your aunt has done. Of course you're upset. And, by most standards, her behavior is mystifying — an aunt never texts a lousy congrats when her niece, her late sister's kid, gives birth?
But throw in the other details you gave, and it seems … less so. She showed little interest before in you or your brother or other family, and then her one real connection died. I think the average, detached observer would find her disappearing act unsurprising. Sad, yes, but still.
Or they might ask, was she hoping to hear from you? She lost her sister. You lost your mom. Stranger stalemates have happened.
And that's before we factor in the very real phenomenon you identified, that some people respond to death by no-showing everyone they associate with their grief.
So my advice is as follows: See her. Not who you imagined you'd have, or wish she had been. Aunt, as is. Then release her accordingly. Relieve yourself of your expectations, hopes, whatever you've carried. Confront her in writing, over and over, unsent, till your words are ready to be said or you no longer need to say them.
Grief counseling, even now, could be the best hours you invest in those roots.
Dear Carolyn: I am a man, now 85, who can no longer do the little chores around our house. I can't climb a ladder to change a lightbulb. I can't paint the house. Even dusting and vacuuming are chores I find I can't do.
My young friends want to step in and help out, and they do. But I feel funny asking anyone. I say thank you and give a hug, but I feel I should do … what?
— Old Man
Old Man: Thanks and a hug sound right. Maybe lunch. If it's more than a little chore and you can afford it, then offer to pay.
If a time comes when 'helping out' isn't enough, then be willing to hire caregivers.
Here's why I say this: I hear from a lot of people in your young friends' position, almost daily, and none of them minds being asked. Zero. All they want is for you to be agreeable about accepting help. That is a gift.
You are all fortunate to have such generous-minded friends.