Dear Bel,
Christmas is almost here and I am struggling with a situation that must be far from unique. The holiday season unfairly adds another layer of intensity, showing a bright vision of what could be, in contrast to the disappointing and frustrating reality.
First, some background. Three years ago, on Christmas Eve, I began a relationship with Andrew, a retired RAF officer. We had known each other for a while, through work, but nothing more. Andrew’s wife Rachel, whom he adored, died during Covid, and I had been alone for a decade, my long-term partner who has left suddenly and distressingly for no apparent reason. I found out about Rachel’s death. and suggested some outings for offer company.
As the months passed, our friendship became something much closer, something neither of us had sought or expected. Despite our differences: Andrew, an old-fashioned gentleman, lover of military history, tweed jackets and real ale; I, a henna-haired bohemian, lover of poetry, Motown and red wine, find great happiness in our new chapter. Living more than three hours apart, we are happy to talk every day, spend weekends and holidays together, share friends and special occasions. Both of us in our 60s feel lucky to have another chance at happiness.
So far, so good. But there is a problem that, no matter how hard I try, I can’t solve it. Andrew has two adult daughters, both with happy lives, beautiful homes and great jobs. At first, I empathized with her desire not to “replace” her mother and her wariness about her father forming a relationship with someone so different.
Our friends and most of the family are delighted for us, but the daughters are not happy. At family gatherings I am greeted politely (often without my name being mentioned) and then ignored.
No effort is made to include me in the conversation. I am a good listener and always ask questions, smile, comment and try to participate. But it is never reciprocated. The girls are smart and responsible people, and I would love to get along with them – as a friend, not as a surrogate mother!
Andrew is looking forward to seeing us all together, enjoying Christmas as a big, united group and, because I love him, I want to see him happy. We remember that first Christmas Eve, full of excitement, hope and anticipation. Soon we began to dream together of future Christmases. But, again, I will spend Christmas with my family and Andrew will spend it with his daughters.
Do I put aside my own discomfort and join a holiday gathering I’m not entirely welcome to, or do we continue to go our separate ways during this special time of year? I just want to see Andrew happy, but it’s hard to know how to handle this. Surely one day we will finally be able to spend Christmas together.
Jenny
Bel Mooney responds: You are certainly right that your situation is far from unique. That’s why I read your letter with a strange mix of real sadness and growing frustration. Which I will return to a little later.
But first, the good news is that you met someone after a long time alone. I’m glad you make such a big deal out of your differences (even though you both sound like people I’d get along with!) because that fact confirms something I’ve mentioned often in this column. When people decide they have a “type” (“I’m only attracted to tall men” or “I want to meet a perky blonde”) they might as well erect a high fence around themselves, deliberately keeping out several lovely souls they themselves know. . I could have fun/find happiness. Don’t do it!
Maintaining an open mind and a generous, inquiring heart is the key to all relationships, whether sexual, family or friendship. And if readers murmur: “It’s very good that she writes that,” I will respond, with my hand on my heart, that in my life I have practiced what I preach. It’s not that difficult once you decide to make the effort.
Nobody ever said these things are easy. Many people have to witness a son or daughter in a relationship with someone they really don’t care much about. If they are wise, they will act carefully, silently waiting for the relationship to fail. But what if it isn’t?
A friend of mine confessed that she never really liked her beloved daughter’s husband, but she knows she has to make the best of it. What option is there, especially if there are children? It’s either that or living with an unpleasant environment. Or worse.
You and Andrew are at the other end of the age scale, but the problem may be just as serious.
You understand that the relative speed with which Andrew affected you must have shocked his daughters. They were still mourning their mother when suddenly their father started dating another woman. I doubt it was anything personal; They just thought of it too soon.
But three years later? Yes, it is surely time for you to put your feelings aside to facilitate your father’s happiness at this stage of his life.
This is where my imagination hears the old refrain: Why should they? Regular readers know it’s my nightmare: that common refusal to do something you really don’t want to do because it will, in fact, make someone else very happy. Oh, what stubborn meanness!
Why, oh why, can’t people bring some light to the darkness of life by forgiving, forgetting and enduring? Why not recognize how terribly short life is and simply reach out, even if it takes some effort? Why not be nice?
Why not act with welcoming warmth, even if your heart doesn’t really feel it? You’d be surprised at the effect that useful little charade can have on everyone involved, similar to the established fact that when you make yourself smile you find that your mood becomes happier.
This would be my Christmas message to all readers. I often get depressed (after 19 years of writing an advice column) by the smug negativity of people who (frankly) need to get over themselves and realize that they add nothing to the joy of the universe by being critical and cold.
You know, I once received a letter about three adult sisters (although that’s a questionable term) in a very nasty war over an item from their dead father’s possessions. Can you imagine? You have no idea how wildly people can peck at each other, like chickens in a too-small cage…
But I digress. Back to you, Jenny, and, at least occasionally, you see and talk to these daughters. You are not prohibited from attending any meetings. Your problem is the lack of warmth and interest on their part.
But you mention your own “discomfort”, so the situation isn’t entirely one-sided, right?
The problem is that by expecting them to behave coldly toward you, I suspect that you might behave similarly. It would be natural. But you ask what you can do about it, so I suggest (which you may not like) that you do it in the future.
What are the alternatives? Continue as you are, having separate Christmases. They decide to go on a luxury (or similar) cruise next year and spend a very different Christmas together, even though it may pain Andrew to have to take that break.
Or decide, with him, to spend Christmas Day with him, his daughters and his grandchildren and, happily, decide that you are going to make it a success.
You see, you can’t do much with their minds, but you can take control of yours. It’s a hard truth.
There are no magic wands. It simply resists warmth and affection, while accepting the need for some self-sacrifice… for all of us.
Yes, this is my most sincere message of peace and goodwill, and perhaps the more difficult it seems, the more beautiful it is.
And finally…
Make a Christmas list with a different touch
Never mind the raindrops on the roses and the whiskers on the kittens (although they are both lovely) and I’m not sure about those ‘girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes’. But this is the time for ‘warm wool gloves’, so maybe a list of your favorite things can warm your heart.
And if you write down all the things you love most, it might inspire you to keep a gratitude journal next year. As the song from The Sound Of Music goes: “When I feel sad/I just remember my favorite things/And then I don’t feel so bad.”
So let me share some of mine and see if any of them move you…
- Decorate the Christmas tree with the same ornaments and tinsel as always while we play traditional Christmas carols on CD. To that, add listening to music all year round.
- Put the wrapped gifts under the illuminated tree and think that although life can make you sad, Christmas paper gifts are always exciting.
- Enter an art gallery or museum, anywhere.
- Talk to good friends about everything under the sun, preferably over a glass or four of wine.
- Chatting with my son and daughter about their lives. (How did they grow?)
- Witnessing how happy the grandchildren are with us.
- Being in our cozy house, even though the kitchen hasn’t been painted in 15 years.
- Reading my crisp new Daily Mail every day at breakfast.
- Trees, flowers, fields, birds, clouds… the beauty of our countryside. (Should I do hate things like wind turbines and solar parks in the new year?)
- Dancing to my 1964 jukebox.
- The clink while my kind husband prepares me a drink in the kitchen, usually vodka and tonic. Greetings, good health and a very Merry Christmas to all!