Life, and other issues

My daughter and I were supposed to be staying a couple of weeks later, but I wrote and said I didn’t want to because I was so upset by the choice of weekend she’d had them to stay. But I also said I didn’t want to fall out with her. She didn’t write back. Two weeks after that her partner became seriously ill. My daughter urged me to phone, which I did. He died five weeks later.

I did tactfully bring up the subject of my letter at an opportune moment, but my mother-in-law was fairly dismissive, saying of course the date would be difficult for me, bringing up memories. There was no hint of regret; certainly no sign of an apology. She obviously thought she’d done nothing wrong. You will probably say it was my husband’s fault, if there was one, for staying in the first place, but as he isn’t a particularly sensitive person, he wouldn’t understand my upset.

Now I am wondering how to behave to my mother-in-law. I’ve already shown great sympathy for her loss, but I’m not sure how ready I am to be friends again. I can hear you say how dreadful I am to have such thoughts at such a sad time in her life. However, she received my letter two weeks before her partner fell ill. She probably wants to sweep it all under the carpet. I don’t want to bring up the subject again, but do feel cool towards her. It is something that really has come between us, and for me it just won’t go away. Do you have any suggestions how to handle this?

Janet

The sublime Sufi poet Rumi wrote: “Somewhere between right-doing and wrong-doing is a field. I’ll meet you there.” I start with that because I see nothing of wrong- doing here — certainly not in your coolness towards your mother-in-law. But I don’t think she has done anything wrong either. Although I identify totally with your hurt feelings. As for me saying it was your husband’s “fault” — I’d wish for more sensitivity in some of my closest friends, but those who expect too much receive the most pain. Rumi identifies the muddied middle-ground where most of us tiptoe, trying not to get our feet wet, wondering whether to see the growth all around as weeds or wild flowers.

Another reader has written with a similar problem, only her situation is slightly more complex. Lily’s troubled marriage lasted 20 years, and while her husband was on one of many long trips abroad, she fell in love with somebody else. The marriage ended by mutual agreement, as he confessed to affairs — and now the two sons live with Lily and the new partner while the ex lives abroad. She goes on: “My ex-mother-in-law and I were very close (firm friends, I thought) and I miss her. I understand the concept of blood being thicker than water but wonder if sending a Christmas card to my two children as if I no longer exist is taking things to extremes? I wrote recently to apologise for hurting her, and told her I missed her. I perhaps unwisely told her I believed I had done the right thing. Am I being naive expecting her to want to have anything to do with me, or should I just accept that the friendship we had was wholly conditional on my remaining married to her son, however unhappily?”

We may dislike stereotypical mother-in-law gags heartily, yet there’s an uncomfortable anthropological truth enshrined within a certain aboriginal tribal custom instructing a son-in-law to avert his gaze from his wife’s mother, should he pass her in camp, to avoid trouble. Set against that there is the devotion (which both of you will understand) of Ruth in the Bible, who clings to her belle-mère after her husband’s death, saying, “Where you go I will go . . . Your people will be my people and your God my God.” But it is a truth we must acknowledge that for most mothers something approximating to God resides within the bosoms of their sons, with all faults.

A daughter-in-law can do any number of loving things for her husband’s mother but the day that son breaks down before his mother to say he loves somebody else, she will support him. When he brings the new girlfriend to visit she may find it painful, she may even slip into her bedroom and shed a tear over his framed wedding photograph — but she will fix a smile on her face, admire the girlfriend’s jacket, press another helping on her, ask questions about her job . . . because she must. She gave birth to a mini-man whom she will love unconditionally, for ever. The abandoned daughter-in-law may grind her teeth in rage and pain, wondering why the mother didn’t tell her son not to be a bloody fool, but to go back to his wife and children and behave responsibly. Would that grown men did as they were told! Whatever her private views might be, the mother-in-law will always put her loyalty to her son first, just as I would expect my own mother to put me first. Equally, no matter how warmly I embrace the girls my son moves in with, when the relationships end he is the one I go on loving. Because he’s my son — yes, blood of my blood.

I want you to understand that completely, so you are no longer shocked. Accepting your mother-in-law’s entitlement to allow her son into her house on any date, you can accept your own entitlement to feel somewhat cooler towards her for doing so. It will protect you — since she will always remind you of him and of a future that was taken away by his actions. These are the melancholy shifts in family life — why a divorce hurts a whole raft of people: waves of pain ripple out through friends and relatives alike. Nothing is the same. In your longer letter you explain you’ve met somebody else now; so that man will bring with him family and friends too, with whom you will develop relationships.

Both you and Lily claimed real friendship with the mother-in-law, and it is not to diminish the shared past that I remind you that an “ex-mother-in-law” is now a person at two removes from you, not just one. You have to accept this truth, keep in contact with her in a friendly way, but don’t expect her (especially now, in her own grief) to understand that what you wanted was the loyalty of a real mum.

That said, I know a perfect mother-in-law of 93 who has always accepted her children’s sometimes-flaky actions, and gone on welcoming all their spouses even when their status became “ex” — embracing the ex-in-law’s new partners too. She’s a rare creature — a paragon to whom everybody should aspire. How different from the judgmental mother-in-law who doesn’t even put her daughter-in-law’s name on a card.

To her I’d say: “Who are you hurting here?” The grandchildren, of course. The young are damaged enough by divorce without grandparents adding to their burden . . . They cannot bear tension, and that’s why all of us adults have to sacrifice self (hard though it can be; I only advise people to do what I’ve done myself) and consider the effects of our actions.

Lily’s ex-mother-in-law needs to write on her hand in indelible pen: “My daughter-in-law is the mother of my grandchildren” — and treat you with the respect due to that status. Since I assume that her children aren’t tiny I would actually get the elder son to whisper, “Hey Gran, we’d like you to put our Mum’s name on the card, OK?” He will — and I bet she will. And your mantra isn’t dissimilar. “My mother-in-law is the grandmother of my children.” Therefore you don’t need to be her friend.

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E-mail your problems to: bel.mooney@thetimes.co.uk or write to her at: times2, 1 Pennington Street, London E98 1TT. Detail such as your age is helpful.