Chapter 8 - The Family Reunion Witnesses
Twenty-two people had seen enough of the reunion to matter.
Not legally.
Relationally.
My aunt Margaret saw Thomasin tear the album.
My cousin Brian heard:
“Nobody here wants to remember you.”
Three people saw my mother step on the photograph.
Several saw me smash the engagement portrait.
The family split immediately.
Of course.
One group:
Thomasin was cruel.
One:
Lowri’s grief had become unhealthy.
One:
I had become violent.
One:
Beatrice was misunderstood.
Family chat exploded.
I left.
Then made a mistake.
I sent one message.
Do not contact Lowri. Anyone defending what happened can stay away from us.
Too broad.
Anger.
My cousin Hannah called.
“You just banned half the family.”
“Good.”
“No.”
“They watched.”
“Some arrived after.”
“Then they can ask.”
“You are turning uncertainty into guilt.”
I hated her.
She continued:
“Lowri needs fewer adults choosing sides around her.”
Correct.
I deleted the message? Too late.
Sent another:
I’m angry and overgeneralized. Please do not contact Lowri about the reunion, Thomasin, Beatrice, or Celia. If you have factual information about what you personally witnessed or prior relevant events, send it to me privately. Otherwise give us space.
Better.
Not perfect.
Several relatives apologized.
One cousin sent something useful.
A photograph from Christmas eight months earlier.
Lowri stood beside a memorial ornament featuring Celia.
Thomasin’s hand was reaching toward it.
Nothing sinister.
Then attached text:
I remembered Thomasin taking this ornament off the tree later. She said Beatrice thought it was upsetting Lowri.
I had not known.
Another aunt wrote:
Beatrice asked us last Thanksgiving not to tell “Celia stories” at dinner because the therapist advised moving forward.
Miriam had never advised that.
Pattern.
Not one conspiracy.
A social rule my mother had spread.
Celia talk equals harmful.
Eventually everyone learned it.
Thomasin included.
May you like
Lowri most of all.
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