A Case of a Relationship Disintegrating

Here is the story... "You are their Eddie." My daughter's words to me one day in the past.  She meant the detested one. She was referring to the sisters.  It rang true then, and it still does. 

Yet there are ties to the family, some inexplicable.  A nephew, in their family, assisted my mother and father when they had to dispose of a less than desirable house in a transitioning neighborhood.  Then, that same nephew took a job with the funeral home that we used for my mother's funeral.  He took the job a few days before my mom died and left it a short time after.  He orchestrated the whole affair, the visitation in the rear of the church, the funeral mass, and that her body was interred in Calvary Cemetery as we had planned.  Then there was a niece, who was assisted by us in getting on with her life.

The envy, jealousy, and hatred engendered by the sisters has hardened over time.  Methinks there is no going back on this one.  I am sure that Carola's demise, should it come before mine, will be the end of any contact with them or their families.  It doesn't matter to me.  I recognize the situation for what it is.  Their father had no sons; I was the son he never had.  He extolled me and my accomplishments to them, to the point that it had a detrimental effect on them, especially the other son-in-law.

Then, after his death, their mother descended into grief and then dementia. She moved in with the middle daughter.  In spite of the fact that they had home health care provided, for personal care and health assessments, and that there were six, able adults living in the locality, they felt that we were remiss in helping. Even though we were three hours and 180 miles away.

Maybe we could have done more, maybe we didn't express enough admiration and gratitude.  I know Carola had it on her mind.  Well, we can't go back and I don't see any way forward, that I want to pursue in any case.

Our kids and theirs are not on the best of terms.  Although we've all been affected by it, there are different stories.  Our oldest has been more conscientious about keeping up with them but I think the other two have, more or less, written it off.  C'est la vie.