The Unloving Mother

When my husband and I became engaged, his mother was not happy.  I’m not sure why my soon to be mother in law hated me so much as I had done nothing to deserve her wrath.  In fact, prior to meeting her, my husband gushed about how we were so much alike, that she would just love me.  He was wrong.  The day after announcing our engagement, we received a phone call from her.  She was on speaker phone so my daughter, who was visiting at the time, got to hear the hatred in her voice.  Rather than congratulations, the first words out of her mouth were, “Why are you marrying THAT woman?”  My daughter was dumbstruck as was I.  My husband calmly told her because he loved me.  Of course, this wasn’t good enough for her.  So rather than her be happy for us, she condemned the union and continually condemned it up to and after her death.

For two years, we tried our best to make her happy, to hopefully have her accept me into the family.  It never happened.  She always had some type of snide remark to make whenever I said anything, or she would argue that she was right.  We proved her wrong many times however, never did we bring it up to her.  When we married a month later, we didn’t tell anyone.  We quietly married before a justice of the peace with our two witnesses.  We didn’t tell our children until Christmas and that is when we posted it on Facebook.

The phone call that pursued the announcement was “you insulted my mom by not telling her you got married.” Tell me how I insulted a person who clearly hated me by not telling her we got married?  My husband’s sister was usually the instigator.  A sister who seemed to profess she loved her brother, my husband, and yet why did we continually feel that knife in our backs?

So again, for two years, I tried my damnedest to get into her good graces.  Reminding my husband to call his mother to find out how she was doing, to go visit her.  We cooked both of them dinner when they were moving because we knew they were tired from packing and decluttering.  We purchased Christmas gifts, Mother’s Day gifts, birthday gifts, to no avail.

It came to a head when just before we found out she had pancreatic cancer, my husband called her to see if we could come over and visit.  On speaker phone, she told my husband he was welcome anytime but his wife, me, was not.  Stunned, he asked her why I wasn’t welcome into her home, and she told him she would discuss it with him when he came over.  The day he went over there, he was not prepared to hear what both his mother and his sister had to say about me.

They both went about telling him that his wife, me, was a slut and a whore.  Shocker, right? When he asked them how they came to that conclusion about someone they clearly knew nothing about, they proceeded to tell him that the first time they ever met me, I said hello and went downstairs (in their house) and changed my clothes into a very low cut top (mind you, I am a breast cancer survivor and never wear low cut tops) and put on “peek a boo” shorts and came up for dinner.  Meanwhile, at dinner, which was around a round table where I sat next to my husband, they said I had my foot in his crouch the whole time!  If that were the case, I would have to be a contortionist to pull that one off.  However, where they came up with this picture is a mystery to both my husband and myself.  First of all, I have never owned a pair of “peek a boo” shorts nor with my figure, would I ever wear a pair.  I consider myself a classy person and would never disrespect his mother or sister by having my foot in his crouch during dinner.  I was not eighteen, I was in my late 50’s.  My husband had had enough of these fabricated lies and decided to end their tirade.  He got up off the couch and told them when they both got their heads out of their asses, to give him a call.  Otherwise, he was done with them both.

Several weeks later, we found out she was dying from pancreatic cancer.  My husband then made the trek on a weekly, sometimes bi-weekly basis, to visit his mother.  I stayed home because I was still not welcome in their home.  As her son, I felt it was only right that he spend time with his mother, especially during her last days here in the physical world.

The day before she passed we received a teary phone call from his sister.  We had had a huge snow storm the day before so my husband was outside plowing the driveway.  I had to answer the phone.  His sister was crying and telling me “mom doesn’t have that long, would the both of you please come down today to say goodbye? Please, you need to come too, I really need you to be here too.” I was taken aback by it because I mean for two years, I was the evil person and now all of sudden, my presences was being requested.  I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, but I went to support my husband, not any love lost between his mother and his sister.  So, we made the trip down where several other family members were camped out.  Family members who didn’t know me, but were told what an evil person I was, so of course, their regard for me was extremely cold.  Mind  you, these are people who never met me, never spoke to me, never spent time with me.

She was pretty much out of it the entire time we were there and I purposely did not go into her bedroom fearing my presences would cause an earlier death.  It wasn’t until we were about to leave that evening that my husband insisted I go in and say my goodbyes.  I was not comfortable with this, but went in because he asked me to.  He held her hand and said goodbye as she gazed into his face and eyes.  When she looked over to me, her expression didn’t change.  I was hoping she didn’t recognize me!  I held her hand and said I would pray for her.  She looked at me and then said, “What for?”  I don’t know, maybe so your soul doesn’t go to hell? is what I thought but didn’t say.  Ornery to the end.

The next day we got the call that she had passed.  Funeral arrangements followed and his sister included us in all the preparations.  At the funeral, her step kids got up and spoke about what a loving and forgiving person she was.  How she helped her troubled step sons beat addictions and troubled teen lives.  (I found that pretty ironic as she forced her own son, my husband, to go live with his dad because she couldn’t handle him at the age of thirteen.)  In fact, as I sat at the funeral home and heard all these “wonderful” stories of this woman, I just could not see it.  This wasn’t the person I knew.  The person I knew was cruel, vindictive, unloving and ungrateful.  But I suppose you can’t get up and say these things at someone’s funeral.

I remember thinking of my own family while I sat in the pew.  I remember being very grateful for the family I had and the family I grew up with.  My mother and father were very receiving of anyone we brought into our home.  My mother especially loves her daughters in law as if they were her own children.  In fact, that is what my family has to offer each other, unconditional love for one another.  That to me is what family is all about.  It’s not about how much money someone is going to leave us when they die, its not about what they can do for us or buy for us, it’s simply about love and family.

My husband’s family is the total opposite of my family and I feel sorry for my husband.  He is the most kind, loving person and to have what has been done to him, is really unforgivable.  His late wife did the same thing to him, she left him nothing and gave it all to her kids, which technically, could have been fought, but he loves his kids so he let them have it.  Which brings me to us finally getting a copy of his mother’s will, which he has been asking his sister for months.

Easter Sunday, we all went down to his sister’s for dinner.  We are trying to mend the fences because after all, we are family, and I did nothing to deserve either of their wrath.  She told him she had a copy of his mother’s will for him.  In the first paragraph, it states that even though she has two children, and she names each of them, that as far as this will goes, her son has predeceased her and he is not entitled to one thing that was hers.  Talk about a kick in the gut.  Talk about taking your hate to the grave with you.  Where is this loving, forgiving person everyone was toting about at her funeral?  How is this the loving mother she was supposed to be? Not only that, but her late husband had eight children, five or six are still alive, she left them nothing as well.  Even though he died before her, his assets became solely hers and she has now cheated his kids out of a portion of his assets.  The sole heir is my husband’s sister.

After we got home, we both sat down and read the entire will.  We found a discrepancy.  It seems that the signature is not her signature.  The will is dated 2/5/2015, two months after we got married.  The witnesses printed their names and the same ink and lettering is the same for his mother’s “signature” which is printed.  It looks nothing like her handwriting.  My husband brought out a letter he had received from his mother in 1998 where she tells him the only reason his sister is speaking with her is because of their will.  She tells his sister in this letter that their will is in a living trust and any assets will be going to the grandchildren for educational purposes only.  We want to know what happened to that living trust, was it dissolved after her husband passed away? Was there a will prior to the 2/5/2015 will? If so, where is it? What does /S/ mean before each printed name?

My husband scanned the will and sent it out to his step sisters one of which replied that the signature was clearly not his mothers.  So where to we go from here?  It’s not about the money, at least not on our part, but to have a mother who hates her son so much for who knows what reason, to put in her will that he is dead to her? That to me is cruel, unloving, disheartening, and certainly not what I would call a true mother.

My husband has one child who is all about the money.  So much in fact, her and her boyfriend had decided to never get on my husband’s sisters bad side because then she would be written out of HER will.  This is just disgusting to me.  We are in such disbelief that a human being would be chasing money just for money’s sake.  But I suppose many families have a person like that.  Again, it makes me want to do to her what was done to my husband, but we aren’t like that.  No matter what our relationships will be with our children or grandchildren, we would never cut any of them out of our will, no matter how greedy they seem to us or how fake they will be to us in order to stay in our good graces.

We do plan on having a family meeting if the stepsisters and brothers want to discuss.  If not, then it will be a forgotten issue.  We will go on with our lives, we will continue to do our life as we see fit.  We will continue to be friendly with his sister and with the greedy child.  What we won’t do is ever speak about his mother, who deceived lots of people, people who at one time loved her for who she pretended to be.  We won’t grieve her death because she doesn’t deserve it.  And if there is a life after death as Theresa Caputo suggests, we hope God has forgiven her for being an unloving mother.

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