Will I see my estranged son before I die?
DEAR BEL
I AM very lucky. I have a wonderful family and a husband of eight years. But one of my four children won’t have any contact with me. He is my youngest son, Tom.
It started four years ago when he put a post on Facebook that I knew would upset his sister, so I messaged her saying: ‘Don’t get upset but . . .’
She contacted him then to say I had told her he’d put something on Facebook — and a row ensued. He texted me to say it was all my fault for stirring and taking her side.
After I’d tried to apologise several times to Tom, he cut me off, saying he didn’t want to speak to me for at least six months. A year later my eldest son, Paul, got married and we were all at the wedding — Tom spoke to me and his stepfather and everything seemed fine.
But it’s now been about three years and he’s still not having any contact at all. He speaks to his brother and sisters at family gatherings on his father’s side.
My ex says it’s better that he keeps some contact with him (just the odd phone call or visit) rather than risk cutting us both off, which he fears.
I don’t know what to do next. It makes me so sad. My son is a grown man of 30, with a good job and a steady life and I’d just love to have some contact with him again. Recently it was my 60th birthday, so I invited my family with their partners but heard nothing from him — not a card nor even a text. I’m crying as I write this.
Our lives are so precious, so short. I lost three close family members in two years and part of me thinks: ‘Supposing I never see him again before I die?’ What did I do wrong?
PAT
WHENEVER I give a talk about my work in public (often at a literary festival) people ask me about this column and my response to the problems. If asked which letters upset me most, I always say ‘family quarrels’. Often this elicits a surprised reaction — probably because they expect me to answer with ‘bad marriages’. The family is at the core of everything, although of course, some people are able to escape what one might call ‘the destiny of blood’.
I know about family problems from private experience and perhaps that’s why they upset me so much. But as well as sorrow, s ometimes I f eel intense frustration, because people choose to take silly offence over nothing, and let petty quarrels stretch out for years.
All of you reading this who are at odds with a family member — ask yourself whether you feel weighed down by your burden of anger. If so, use your will-power and summon up your emotional strength, take a deep breath and drop that malevolent millstone.
What’s the point in living if you can’t forgive? I have no time for this pathetic clinging to ‘hurt feelings’ when there’s a world of unfathomable sorrow out there.
Rant over! You can see how strongly I feel. Back to you, Pat, and I must observe that nowadays family problems are often made worse by social media, emails and texts. So quick, so careless — so easy for the wrong words to do damage.
A long time ago I gave a mother with a similar predicament a piece of advice I’m going to repeat, as it worked for her.
I s uggested s he go t hough ol d photographs and choose one of her and her son when he was little. A happy picture. Then she was to write a proper l etter, carefully, on real notepaper, reminding him of childhood with one or two lovely anecdotes.
Your letter will say you understand if there are still things he remembers which upset him (maybe the divorce?), and how sorry you are that he now feels estranged, because you will always love him.
As you are writing, focus on him, not on your own sadness. Don’t think of him as being unreasonable, but alienated because he is somehow hurt.
Perhaps Tom has some memory which has triggered this hostility to his family. All you can do is write positive thoughts, with no recrimination and no emotional blackmail.
Write with plenty of hope. Hope is a powerful force.