From the time I was a little girl I had a close relationship with my godmother, Barrie. She lived with Kathleen, and they were lovers. I didn’t really catch on to this until some time around the beginning of high school, but that is my problem.
I loved Barrie and Kathleen like family. I considered them to BE family. Growing up I often spent weekends at their place out in the foothills, taking long baths in the claw-footed bathtub while talking about everything in the world to Kathleen, who would sit in there with me to keep me company, or out riding their horse, Misty, or making candles in sand molds… or just enjoying nature. They lived out in the desert and you could hear the coyotes at night, and the rabbits and birds would come out at dawn to drink from the little spicket just outside the living room window. In the winters, the house was heated by a woodburning stove and in the summer we’d go on the roof and sleep in sleeping blankets.
They saved me from so many times when I was too depressed to go on; they listened to me when my mother never seemed to, they encouraged my creative and imaginitive nature when the kids at school just made fun of me… Visiting them was always like a vacation away from the pain in my life. I always felt like at least someone understood me, and I could go there when I needed to, and they loved me unconditionally, which was something I didn’t really believe about my blood-family.
Through high school I’d introduced them to my boyfriends, who they accepted with far more open arms than my mother did. They came to see my school plays, and took me out to eat Mexican food, which no one in my family seemed to like.
When I was 17 I got a letter from Barrie that they had split up. This hit me very hard. That letter was also the first time that the issue of their lesbian relationship had ever come up, though I already knew about it. Kathleen had found someone else, and Barrie was sure that when she was ready, she would contact me. I had no real way of contacting her. So for a while, there was only Barrie. I loved her in a way that is hard to describe. She wasn’t like a mother, because I didn’t see her often enough for that. She wasn’t like a grandmother because although she was much older than my mom, she never seemed old. She still doesn’t seem old. I think she’ll be about 50 for eternity. She wasn’t like an aunt or a sister or a teacher, it was a much more intimate yet mentor-like relationship. While I was very sad to learn that they were no longer together, my love for both of them stayed just as strong.
It seemed like a long time before I was finally in touch with Kathleen again, but then I was, and I met her new partner, Shannon, and their cat and I visited them fairly regularly because they lived only about a mile and a half from where I lived.
On the other hand, I saw Barrie very infrequently. She lived about 45 minutes away in the foothills at the base of the Catalina mountains, on the far northeast side of town. I did stop and see her when I could during my time at Pima Community College, when she was teaching English there. She came to my wedding, while Kathleen did not (she felt it would be too awkward) and the next day I went to Kathleen’s wedding to Shannon. An interesting aside, the violinist from my wedding played at her wedding, too.
As the months and years progressed, it became harder and harder to get ahold of Barrie. When I would call, I always got the answering machine, and my messages were never returned. I wondered why, but I made excuses in my head that she was very busy, or out of town, or hadn’t gotten the messages.
During the same time, my husband and I got closer to Kathleen. She was closer to us and easier to contact, and she made an effort to stay in touch with us as well. For years I heard nothing from Barrie, until one day when I recieved a letter.
This letter was one of the most painful things that has ever happened to me. In it, Barrie told me that she was finished being my godmother. I was old enough, I didn’t need one anymore. If I felt that I still needed someone to fill that position in my life, I should ask Kathleen to do it. She then accused me of favoring Kathleen and ignoring her, and while she did say that she still loved me, it was a very final letter. It didn’t really allow for any further contact without extreme awkwardness, and the pain of being disowned by family was unreal. The letter ended with the recognision that I was pregnant, and the hopes that I would have a healthy child and a nice life. It hurt so much. It was like having your grandparents decide you weren’t their grandchild anymore, or having your mother say you should find a new mom.
I cried for hours.
I wrote a letter back, explaining that I was very hurt that she would end our relationship like that, and that I had always considered her to be family. I didn’t think of her position as a responsibility that she would one day shrug off, I had always assumed she would always be there. In addition I mentioned that while she had made no efforts to keep in touch with me, I had tried to stay in touch with her. Over the years my calls had gotten less frequent, as I started giving up, but her calls had been nonexistant. I was also strongly dissappointed that she considered Kathleen to be some sort of rival.
I never sent the letter.
I showed it to Kathleen, along with the letter I’d received, and she said it was a good letter. I put it on the end table at home and left it there. The next day, my mom’s church had a “slave auction” for the youth group, and my mom loaned me her “slaves” to help me pack some boxes. Somehow, the letter ended up in one of those boxes.
Another year went by. Kathleen helped me get through a lot of the pain, and she had her own pain, too, as she and Shannon had split. When my son was born, I asked her to be his godmother. She agreed. Neither of us is Catholic, and godmother doesn’t mean the same things to us as it does to a lot of people, probably. To me a godmother is like a bonus relative; someone to love your child and be a role model for them; someone who will encourage their uniqueness and support their choices in life; someone who will love them unconditionally and make them feel special; someone like my godmother was for me.
I had looked for the letter many times. I had moved twice. I still hadn’t found it. And then I was on my way to Virginia, to live 2300 miles away. I don’t even know if Barrie knew I was moving.
Finally after I’d been in Virginia for a while, I decided to write another letter. I tried to remember everything I’d said before, and I mailed it off. Ironically, it was the very next day that I opened a box and found the original letter.
Last Christmas, when my son was three, we were in Tucson visiting. Kathleen had gotten back in contact with Barrie and they were friends again. Kathleen said that Barrie wanted to see me. It was very awkward, and I was scared, but we met at Kathleen’s house one afternoon. She was very sorry about what had happened, and she loved Nicky, and we had a nice visit… but I still haven’t really heard from her more than two or three times. Something inside of me died, and it hasn’t been replanted yet. I hope that she wants to replant that seed, because I miss her very, very much.
— 02:17:37 AM
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