Turning

I went to my niece's wedding this weekend. It was held at her father's estate. He is wealthy beyond any reason, and his estate and possessions confirm that, down to the smallest detail in any of the more than a dozen bathrooms in his home.

The amount of money he must spend in a month on upkeep on his estate are certainly double or more what my husband and I bring home to live on every month. He was blessed with great intelligence, and a driving ambition to rise from his humble beginnings. Both of those gifts have been ill-used.

He has alienated every person who ought to love him to a degree that nearly defies explanation. He visited unspeakable cruelty on my sister when they were married, and he controls his adult children with lavish gifts and huge trust funds. There is no one in his life now except those he pays to be there.

I haven't seen him for years -- and have enjoyed every minute of them. But seeing him this weekend was unavoidable. Each time I sensed he was trying to make eye contact with me I made it a point to move away. I have harbored so much bitterness toward him for so long that I really was afraid of what I might say to him.

There came a moment, though, when I didn't move fast enough and he had me in a bear hug from which I wanted more than anything to escape. All I could think of to say was, "You have a lovely home." He cried. It is the only thing he has, and I believe he knew that's exactly what I meant.

My niece's wedding was beautiful, the home was beautiful, but as we took our leave to head back to the hotel where we were staying the night, all I could think of was that in a matter of hours he would be all alone in that house surrounded by its cold beauty and without a soul beside him with whom he could rehash the day.

I looked over at my husband in the driver's seat and realized that although we will never have any of the beautiful things my ex-brother-in-law does, we have all the things that elude him: peace, deep and abiding love, the respect of the people we care about, and the capacity to truly appreciate the gifts we HAVE been given.

After all these years of hating him, all I could now work up was pity. It was an interesting turn.

And I cried.