I always used to think I had an excellent relationship with my SIL. Whenever my daughter had a breakdown, meltdown or whatever, he used to bring my grand-daughter over to John and I at 6.30 in the morning (she was 3 when this started), so he could go to work, whilst my daughter was in the Mental Hospital.
He has a manual job, and if he doesn't work, he doesn't get paid, and it was vital they could keep the mortgage paid etc.
This carried on for years, and I've lost count of the number of times it happened. She was last hospitalised 4 years ago (imagine how joyous my life was, with John in the latter stages of AD then, as well), for about 4 months, and since then, he's overseen her medication-taking, but there have been several ""extended moods", short tempered, walking on eggshells etc, and then she turned on me in October.
And my SIL didn't want to discuss it, accused me (on daughter's wrong information) of various things, and I've only seen him 3 times since, when he has come to collect my grand-daughter - Monday will be only the 4th time I've seen her in 5 months. And when he's arrived, although I've greeted him pleasantly, he just grunts.
And no, SIL hasn't responded to my text at all. Quilty, you asked what my husband would tell me to do. The same as he always said - that she is selfish and has to be the centre of attention, and I should forget olive branches and ignore her. But he was made of harder stuff than me, and I'm emotional.
And no Lyn, my son and daughter aren't in regular contact. He had decades of her moods, and is safely ensconced in California, and is disgusted by the fact that she didn't make contact for the anniversary of John's death (23/12), or his birthday on Christmas Day.
I have to choose who I tell in "real life" about my daughter. I lied to several people and said that I went to her for Christmas, and I wished I'd lied to all of them, bar my best friend. Because people keep on about it, like picking at a scab. For example, the friend I stayed with in Plymouth phones me one week and I phone her the next, and I am so tired of her continuously asking me if she'd been in touch.
I've told her that if there is any contact, I'll let her know, but she still asks, and then says "I can't understand it", and I know that, because her daughters are round with her, or phoning her all the time. And she will keep on and on about it, even if I say "d'you mind if we talk about something else please". And I get that from the half a dozen or so who know.
I've spent most of today sobbing, and I know it's not going to get easier by Thursday. One friend said "she might surprise you, and turn up", but as I pointed out, it's not like a funeral, at a set time. The Chapel, which houses the Books of Remembrance, is open all day.
I'm turning into a horrible jealous person. I spent John's illness jealous of couples where both spouses were reasonably fit and well. Then when he died, I found myself jealous of couples still together, though not, I hasten to add, where one partner was ill.
I'm jealous of those who have a caring offspring not living 6000 miles away and I'm jealous of those who don't have an uncaring one. And I hate myself for these terrible feelings.
When I was at Choir One today, people were excitedly asking each other what they did on Mother's Day, and when I was asked, I found myself lying with ease. And if you're going to lie, you might as well embroider it like the Bayeaux Tapestry.
