So...Most of you know that I have two moms, right? Not 2 moms like moms that were a couple, but 2 different moms. My dad was married twice, and my bio mom was rarely around. I spent more time with my step mom...We'll call her Mary.
Mary and my Dad got married when I was 11 or 12, I'm not sure...They had been dating for a couple of years, and it came as no great surprise to me when they did. Of course, that mean that I was happy about this wedding, or ready for a new mommy, a new sister, and 2 new brothers. Like I told all of my bloggy friends before, in time, I felt that we became a family, and I even called Mary 'mom.' I accepted my sister, and brothers, and I even named my eldest daughter KC after Posh, my adopted sister.
My Dad did in, fact, adopt Marys kids. Her ex husband had a new family, new kids, and no need for the old ones that he had left behind. Adoption meant no more support, and Mary's ex was all too happy to let me Dad adopt his kids.
I remember asking my Dad, when I was about 13, why I wasn't being adopted, too. He told me that there was no need for it, and that Betty really didn't want to give me up, even though she rarely called or came to visit anymore. I wanted more than anything to be adopted by Mary. I wanted to be John AND Mary's kid, not "Bridget, my step daughter," or "My husband's daughter." I hated that more than anything. My Dad never did that. Ever. To him, we were all just his kids.
My Dad got sick shortly after my marriage to Rudi. We found out that it was terminal, and I was grateful that my Dad had a wife to take care of him, to love him, to cherish him. I was a young mom, just starting out. I didn't want him in a hospital, but that's where he would he would have spent many lonely days without Mary.
The months dragged on to years, and I had more children. By the time my Dad actually passed away, I had 3 children. KC was 11, Kayla was 7, and Jessica nearly 4. I spent as much time with my Dad as I could, but it was hard with 3 little ones, and an unsupportive husband.
My Dad and I had many long talks before his death. We worked out all of our anger, and nothing was left unsaid. I tried my best to tell him how I felt, without hurting him. He was more than my Dad, he was my best friend. I brought up the subject of Mary and her kids many times. I told my Dad that unless he made provisions for my girls in the will, we would be written out.
He got so angry with me. He had been married almost 20 years by then, and to him, we were just one family. He completely trusted his wife to do as they has discussed, just as I am sure that you all trust your spouses. I tried to tell him that I would be expelled from the family. I tried. He wouldn't listen, and I didn't want to upset him. He was dying, and on oxygen. He was my father, and I couldn't bear to hurt him.
My Dad passed away on July 11, 1999. I helped my 'Mom' plan the funeral. I helped with the thank you cards, and I helped deal with the insurance claims. I thought, for about 10 minutes, that I was wrong. I thought that I was a memeber of my own family.
Soon enough, it started. The girls would be forgotten on birthdays, or we wouldn't be invited somwhere. Whatever. I waited more than 2 years to ask for the things that my Dad had told me that he was leaving for me. I was told that they were NOT mine. My brother was given a Rolex. I was given his false teeth.
I still held out hope. Two and a half years ago, I was told that I am no longer a part of the family, and I no longer welcome anywhere near anyone. I have not spoken to my brothers, my sister, or my 'mom.'
They are all living on my Dad's money. I have been written out of her will. As if that isn't bad enough, I just found out that got married to a guy named JOHN JOSEPH..Care to guess what my Dad's name was? Oh, and the reason that Posh is creeped out? He looks my Dad.
She is selling my Dad's house, and right now, Mary and John2 are in Australia. This is after she took a trip to Bolivia to save orphans and build a church, or orphanage, or whatever the hell she was doing.
See her there, 'saving' the little kids? What a fucking saint.
Now, if you're thinking that I am simply bitter because she took my money and ran, you're only half right. It goes beyond that. My Dad TRUSTED her. He never would have married her, adopted her kids, and left HIS fortune to HER if he would have known what she was truly like.
Anyone that knows me well knows that I am not all about money. I am NOT. I do, however, have a 12 yr old that needs braces, and my meds are going to cost about $200 a month, and we are way behind on rent....I don't aspire to be a millionaire. I just want to be comfortable somday, and I want to give them what they need...That's all. The money that she took from me? Let's just say it's over $100 grand...WAY.
So, I am feeling sick to my stomach. I am hating her right now, and I hate myself for hating her. I have to find a way to deal with this, and I just don't know how. How can you betray someone like that? She was a grandma to my kids, for their whole lives...and she just walked away...She just walked away... How could have snowed my Dad like that?