When my dad sent me a letter that made me feel like an ungrateful teenager all over again, I shared my hurt with my three siblings. Why the words in the letter were not horrific, it was the passive-aggressive nature of sending a letter to me to accuse me of a wrong that made me wilt.
My parents raised us with nightly debates at the dinner table. While we didn’t always agree, we were allowed to speak and have a discussion on our varied viewpoints. The letter just pierces me without warning and doesn’t give me an opportunity for defense.
While I’ve been reminding myself for two years they aren’t my parents anymore, I should have recognized this first as an act of a man who is not my father. I failed the logic test this week.
The result of this, however, was that my siblings all sent letters to my parents clarifying the situation. They are my big brothers and sister, so there was a wonderful amount of protection and love involved in these actions.
I’m sure my parents won’t exactly recall what it was that happened, but they are going to receive a full frontal assault – all in hopes of getting them to move into the retirement community full-time. Defended.