Art of Angela DeRiso

One of the hardest things in life is finding out the people you think of as family can change to be anything but. After the sudden death of my Father in 2008, many of them did just that. They became distrustful strangers who over time isolated myself and my mother for reasons that were never made clear. To this day, I still have never had an explanation. I used to wrack my brain trying to understand why they would change like they did, and after 17 years, I no longer care. The pain and alienation that they’ve caused me had no justifiable reason, and only made me realize they were no longer worth having in my life.

Unfortunately, my experience isn’t uncommon. Many others have gone through similar or worse. While it makes me feel less alone, it still doesn’t undo the damage done. So, I decided to share my own experience and write through some of the events for others to read through.

The Day Everything Changed

In June of 2008, my Father passed in his sleep from GI bleed related to type 2 diabetes. He’d had a silent heart attack a few days prior that we only just found out about through a doctor’s appointment. My Mother had tried to wake him after she got up to use the bathroom, only to find him unresponsive. She called me in to try and help, and when I touched him, I felt the cold temperature and stiffness. I knew something was wrong on some level, but I didn’t want to know. I remember leaving the room screaming, heading out to the porch to call our neighbors at the time. EMS arrived and eventually pronounced my Father’s death, and I saw his body wheeled out on the gurney in a gray clothe body bag.

The following hours were spent in shock, trying to cope with a new reality. I couldn’t cry or sleep properly. I had called family to let them know what had happened, as my Mother was too distraught to do so. By morning, I was fielding nearly nonstop calls from friends and other family. We could’ve been given maybe a few days before everyone started immediately calling. We had a lot to deal with mentally, so talking on the phone was the last thing on my mind, but I did it.

Within a matter of days, my Father’s funeral was held. The first part was a viewing with an open casket in a local funeral home, and the second held a day or two later was in another town where he was to be buried. It was the last time I ever saw him.

All I wanted was to be alone with the shock and emotions. I went to a back room for a break, because watching and hearing people share memories and laughter was just too much. I was chastised for wanting to be alone because according to some people in my family, it looked bad for me to not be there in that room. Years later, I would hear from many others that grief is different for everyone. There isn’t one mold it fits.

I’ll never forget the image of my Mother sitting in a chair alone by the casket of her husband. It wasn’t even that long into this viewing that people began asking about my Father’s jewelry and what we’d doing with it.

The Loss of my Father & Aftermath

My Dad was and is an ever present force in who I became as a person. He was an honest, hard working, intelligent, with an imposing character you’d have a hard time forgetting. Through the years, we had discussions on nature, religion, science, and philosophical things. He was also full of humor, and made it known in many ways. Bodily functions included.

He was a force for guidance and comfort in my life that can never be replaced. Every time I felt like the world was falling apart, or I doubted myself, he was there to encourage me and let me know things would turn out alright. He was a skilled construction worker, and took pride in his work. I heard that he actually started in the field at the age of 16.

He once told me about some of the rougher times in his life growing up in rural Georgia, and the poverty he experienced. Food could be scarce at times, and he mentioned eating chicken feet at times. Parts of animals most people wouldn’t eat.

I know that he left home at age 15, and had his own trailer. I heard stories of how he used to hitch rides on the back of trains as a boy, and driving stock cars in drag races as a teenager. I’m sure there is much I don’t know of his life before I knew him. His own father was an alcoholic, and I believe my Father never drank as a result of that.

After his loss, my Mother was devastated, always second guessing her decisions, with her confidence shattered. They did everything together, and I had to step in to help her along with even basic things. I had to help her through bankruptcy, losing a house, and caring for her parents (my maternal Grandparents). She didn’t have time to grieve properly, as it was one thing after another she had to continue doing without much help. My Grandfather was on dialysis, and we took him to many appointments during that time.

On top of all this, I started noticing my Dad’s family and my siblings being less friendly toward my Mom and I. A comment here or there, and they were closer to each other than with us. We were pushed out little by little.

In 2009, we finally moved back to Florida, which I was very grateful for. Not long after, my Grandfather passed and a month after that, my Grandmother had a stroke. Life throws curve balls one after the other. She recovered well, still lucid but had to use a walker for the remainder of her life. My Mom and I lived and cared for her for the following 7 years. I appreciated the time I had left with both my Grandparents. Moments late at night conversing with them, making sure they had their lunches and medications set up, and showing them the latest artwork I’d done, and more.

After my Grandmother passed in 2015, Mom and I were left in grief, some of which had been delayed for a while. Watching the last pieces of your family dwindle away takes its toll.

Shifting Loyalties & Increasing Isolation

My sister and the other side of the family became closer, and as a result, further from us. My Mom was emotionally torn between the hurt and love of the family she once knew. I hated them for how they treated her, and also me. My disconnect from them happened faster, as I was the one watching all this from the sidelines. She clung to her sense of family again and again for years, while the cycle of emotional abuse continued off and on. The forms abuse were alienation, invalidating her experience and feelings as a wife, making comments about how she was overacting about not being included, etc. They would go for long periods of never calling, and then one day out of the blue they would call as if nothing had happened. If you ever called them on any inconsiderate thing they did, they tried to act like it either didn’t happen or you were overacting somehow.

This went on for years, and we had to put up with it for years. I’d finally had enough after 2021, and in the last few years what was left of them slowly but surely distanced themselves from me and my Mother enough that I felt the process was mostly done, for me at least. A few ugly episodes of interaction have helped my Mom see just what I’ve seen all these years. She still struggles with it emotionally. All I have left is anger and bitterness in my heart for them, not love. To protect what mental faculties I have, I chose indifference and no contact with them.

Learning to Cope with Many Kinds of Loss

Not only did I lose loved ones, but I lost what I believed was my family. In truth, maybe all it really was made of was little more than paper. The small circle of people that made it what it was were the glue holding it all together. It fell apart without them here. I had to learn that no family is perfect, and every one of them has unspoken grudges, past misdeeds, rivalries, and lies hidden in their fabric.

Coping with the loss of my Father and Grandparents was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do, and time has helped. There loss is always felt and never goes away, but I have the memories to carry them with me. There are good days and bad. I still wish they were here so I could hear their voices, their advice, and have all those conversations we used to have.

I’ve spent my 20’s and 30’s trying to survive mentally and otherwise while helping my Mom care for her aging parents, jumping from one dead end job to the next. I tried to help with groceries, rent, gas, and the basics. Uncertainty was always hiding behind a corner, but I tried to maintain a sense of normalcy for myself, but it wasn’t much when I look back. It’s amazing what you can put up with for years if you’re set to autopilot most of the time.

Now entering my 40’s, I feel grief for the life I never got to have because of how the way things turned out. I didn’t get to be that happy, youthful 20 something exploring the world and finding out where my life would take me. I got saddled with grief and unpleasant truths, and being a caregiver both emotionally and otherwise. Sometimes, I don’t know if there’s a life of happiness for me somewhere. I’m not asking to be young again, but to simply own my own life. That’s all I ever wanted. I’d take a cabin in the woods and exploring mountains over partying.

No one from the rest of the family asked if I was okay, how I was doing, or if we needed help. They never even offered. We had perfect strangers and close friends act more like family than they ever did. Maybe if they had been different people than they turned out to be, things would’ve been different than they are now. I walk around with scars that no one can see, and that I wish I couldn’t feel. That’ll be with me for the rest of my life. Its part of the reason why when they try to worm their way back into my life somehow it angers me so easily. Have they no clue what this has cost me? The years, my well being, even at times my physical health. I have to assume they don’t care.

I know others have had to go no contact with family for similar reasons, and for others they use varying levels of distance while maintaining those relationships. While unfortunate, I’m glad I’m not alone in my experiences with family estrangement.

What are some of your experiences? Please share in the comments.