We had an enjoyable time at the Wedding. There was a minute when the memory of my parents intruded in on my thoughts, and I imagined them there, alive. Dad would be smiling with a glass of wine in his hands. Mom would be walking about from table to table saying hello. The image is non-sustainable after a minute, and I am back to reality. They're gone, and that's that.
I felt their absence in another way. A relative was in town, seated at another table. If my parents were still around, they would likely have been assigned seats right next to her. One of them - probably Dad -- would say " Y...do you remember our eldest, R...?" That would almost guarantee a warm, enthusiastic embrace from the relative. I would reap one of the benefits of being the daughter of two, well-liked, generous parents. Some sort of bonding would result.
So I expectantly went to her table, introduced myself and Romy, and shook her hand. She nodded, smiled, then became silent though she continued to smile. Her thoughts were a million miles away. No warm, enthusiastic welcome here. She could care less. I was dismissed, though not is so many words. I linked her disinterest to the death of my parents. My "credentials" were gone. I was on my own. Being a daughter was not good enough.
