Four Stamps

About a dozen years ago I decided to break off contact with a bunch of people in my family and I resolved to never speak to them again.

Why? I don't know.

I would like to be able to upgrade that last sentence to "I don't remember" but I can't, because I do remember making the decision as clearly as if I had made it yesterday - I even remember where I was standing in my apartment when I hung up the phone on my father for the last time. Soon afterwards, I extended the ban to everyone other than my brother.

When I say "I don't know", see, I mean "I have no good reason".

My immature, knee-jerk response to a virtually non-existent stimulus morphed over the years into a test of my misguided pride and resolve as the caller ID periodically flashed their names. Messages were immediately deleted, of course.

The frequency of the incoming calls slowed and eventually stopped altogether. I guess after a while you just stop trying...

It's not like we have all ever been particularly close - we aren't the Waltons or the Seavers or the Cosbys or the Bradys, after all. But who is, really?

But lately a leaden feeling of "loss" had been bearing down on me. Maybe it was the approaching holidays, maybe its because I have a milestone birthday coming up, or maybe the weight of years and years of familial vacuum finally became something noticeable.

Again, I don't know.

My son has never met any of my blood relatives. That's completely unacceptable, regardless of what type of yardstick you choose to lay on it. Do I really want his future "My Family Tree" kindergarten project to look like the entire left-hand side is either fictional or, worse, barren because the data is simply "not available"?

No. That won't do.

Several weeks ago I sent a text to my brother and asked him for some contact information which he sent. A couple days later I sent out Christmas cards to my father and three of my sisters with the simple message "It has been too long" along with my phone number and my email address.

A day after I sent the cards I found myself wondering if I did the right thing. After all, I spent years and years carefully nurturing an imaginary grudge... did I really want all that hard work and dedication to building those walls to go to waste?

Besides... what if no one called?

A couple of days later the phone rang and PRIVATE CALLER showed up on the ID. I picked up, something I never do if the number is unknown to me.

"Merry Christmas, brother. It has been too long".

My sister and I chatted for about an hour doing our best to simultaneously reminisce and answer the question "So... what have you been up to?" Obviously, summing up the high and low points of the last ten years of someone's life is going to take longer than their half of a one hour conversation, so I happily look forward to catching up and staying current through future calls and emails.

It's sobering the number of births and deaths, weddings and divorces, joys and sorrows, and just the amount of generic "stuff" you miss when you let the Earth rotate on its axis four or five thousand times without really being plugged in to the things that should matter to you.

The second sister called the next day, followed shortly thereafter by an email from the third. Cool.

Days rolled by and still no contact from my father. I thought I had fully prepared myself for no responses from anyone, but now I found myself being crushed by not batting a thousand.

It wasn't until Christmas Eve that one of my sisters sent me a text telling me that I should try calling his cell - she had just gotten off the phone with him, she said, so he's probably around.

I mulled it over then dialed the number she gave me. No answer. I sighed and continued preparing the house for the party guests that were due to arrive within the hour.

The phone rang about fifteen minutes later. This time, the caller ID was clear.

We talked for a while - me hiding out in the back room while the guests filtered in. It turns out he got the card I sent, but didn't know if it was from me or, more likely, my wife trying to patch things over by sending something out in my name without my knowledge. A perfectly reasonable theory.

I apologized and he apologized, but we laughed over the fact that neither one of us could figure out what we were sorry for other than letting a dozen years slip away. Eventually, I had to hang up with him because a party was going on around me but, this time, it wasn't for "the last time".

I don't know what the future will bring but it looks like I will be travelling a bit more and it looks like my son's Family Tree Project will be a little fuller.

And it only cost me four stamps.