Do I Have the Right to Say Goodbye?
Yesterday, while we were preparing for a huge blizzard that was about to hit Connecticut later that day, my phone rang. It was my new cousin *Claire. I found myself tangled up in some cords I was setting up to charge my two iPads and my laptop in case we lost power, and I missed picking up the call, but I glanced over and saw she was leaving a voicemail. “I’ll call her back in a minute,” I thought to myself.
I finished what I was doing and, before I called her back, I read the voicemail transcription.
“Hi Jenny, it’s your cousin Claire. I hate to do this by phone, but I wanted to let you know that *Jane passed away around 11 o’clock this morning. I will try you again in a few minutes. Take care. Love you, bye.”
I felt tears well up in my eyes, which completely caught me off guard. Jane was my Aunt. She and my biological father were brother and sister. She was 97 years old and had been in a nursing home for several years after a stroke robbed her of her speech and left her in need of regular care. She died without ever knowing I existed.
When Claire and I finally talked on the phone, she told me Jane passed peacefully, and we both agreed she had a long and wonderful life. Claire and Jane were very close, and Claire shared many stories of Jane with me. Maybe that is why I felt I knew her when I really didn’t. I don’t know.
As we talked and Claire shared more stories about Jane, she suddenly paused and said,
“Listen. I want to let you know that you have every right to go to that funeral if you want to. And I’ll back you up. None of them like confrontation, so I’m sure they won’t say anything to you. But if they do, I’ll be there and take care of it.”
It’s hard to explain, but I suddenly felt panicked. Not about being confronted, but about owning Jane as my Aunt by showing up. Of course, only Claire, my bio siblings, and I would know who I really was because no one else in the family knows about me. And if I failed to mention it earlier, my bio siblings don’t know Claire is talking with me.
Claire’s validation of me as a family member made me emotional, too. And so grateful. My voice cracked a little when I answered, “Thank you for saying you will back me up. That means so much to me. I’ll think about it. I don’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable.”
I asked myself the big questions. What is my point in going? Would I be attending to honor this aunt, or was it more about finding some closure for myself? What if someone asks me, “How did you know Jane?”
I wonder if Aunt Jane would have welcomed me if I had met her when she was in good health? Like Claire did. She could have told me so much about her brother, her parents and her grandparents from a perspective I’ll never hear. Questions I can never ask.
I have to decide whether going will bring me some kind of peace or just make me feel more rejected. Standing at the periphery of a family that is mine but doesn’t claim me will be painful. But maybe I can go quietly, sit in the back, and not make this anything about me. Just honor her. I didn’t get that chance with *Joe.
I have some thinking to do. Do I have a right to say goodbye?
This is my NPE story of discovering in 2015 that my Dad was not my biological Dad. If you’d like to follow along, I encourage you to start at my first post of the series HERE.
Yes, you have the right to say goodbye. I’d come in just before the service began, sat in the back and leave first. You have the right to honor her.
Yes, you have the right to say goodbye. Agree with Linda, arrive just before the service, sit in the back to pay your respects, leave first, and if there is a guest book, please sign it (even if you just write your first name, nothing else). Sending hugs.
My mom and your aunt were very good friends. She told me that she believes your aunt would definitely have welcomed you and hopes you will attend the funeral. I hope this brings you some comfort.