Two Weddings, Four Funerals and a Host of Other Painful Events

My cousin is getting married at the end of July in Denver. My mother, the queen of family functions, the woman who uses every vacation day to see her family has started hammering me on whether I will be attending. Last week she called me at work to have what I thought was a perfectly normal “how is your day” conversation then out of the left field drops the “Are you and C going to your cousin’s wedding? It is really going to hurt my feelings if you don’t go” bomb in my lap. I told her we haven’t decided which led to the run down of every wrong I have ever committed. I did not:

Go to my great aunt’s funeral at a convent in Pennsylvania.

Go to my other great aunt’s funeral in Washington.

Go to my other great aunt’s funeral in Washington.

Go to my cousin’s wedding who I have no more than two words to say to at any given time. Nor does he have much more to say to me.

Go to my cousin’s graduation in Denver. This was a toughy because he graduated Mother’s Day weekend and I STILL didn’t go.

I did:

Go on vacation with my father last summer (it must be added that this was the first vacation I have gone on with my father since I was eight)

Go to Belize with C’s father (this is how my mother says it but in reality I went with C for her 30th birthday which her father and four other friends joined her to celebrate therefore this does not technically count as a vacation with C’s father).

You get the idea. I went home fuming. How could she try to guilt me into going? If she was going to bring up places I went eight years ago I should be allowed to go back as far as possible to dredge up enough places I went with her to counter those she was mentioning. I could have ended the cycle of abuse right there but instead chose to hammer C all the way to Yorktown that I want her to go with me in July. If you are wondering, yes, I started listing all of the places I have gone with her, trying to fill my column with enough selfless attendance that she will come with me in July. Like mother like daughter. It pains me to admit that.