Where Is She?

My Aunt Esther celebrated her 90th birthday last Friday, and Mary and I had the good fortune of being able to attend. Among the many reasons for rejoicing was the reunion with my five cousins from that side of the family, an occasion for which none of us could remember the last time it happened. We have all aged quite a bit, but the good news is that we are all well enough to have made it to the gathering. That was more than could be said for the two uncles that have died and the aunt who is suffering dementia that is probably brought on by Alzheimer’s. There was one other of the elders not present, my mom. I am happy to report that she is alive and well, but through divorce she has been surgically removed from the Hanna family, thereby becoming persona non grata. The cousin nearest my age was the only one to ask about her. Apparently the rest of the clan has come to accept that she does not exist; not in the photos being passed around, not in the stories being told, not as an integral part of the history being shared. I know how incredibly painful this is for my mother, who considered herself the devoted wife and loyal member of the extended family. She has done nothing to deserve being exiled to the realm of nonbeing, but it has happened to her nonetheless. I reflect with a degree of sadness and dismay that those to whom I am so closely related are able to dismiss the one from whose womb I entered this world. I’m going to focus on those words of the Christ, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do;” until I am able to incorporate that truth into my being.