An email in response to my dad about my behavior after the wedding

From my brain

This was my reponse to an email from my dad about my behavior after the wedding. It was sent on October 4, 2006

I'm sorry. You have a right to be angry with me for the way we left and that is one of my only regrets from over the weekend.

I know it was their wedding. I know their plans are their own. I know you said that nothing was done on purpose, but really, that's what hurts the more. I felt like an afterthought for most of the weekend, just like I've tried to tell myself all my life that I'm not.

For the weeks leading up to the wedding, I really thought a lot about whether or not my brothers all were going to be in the wedding, but that I wasn't to be included. All it would have taken was a single note or a phone call, "Hey, just to let you know, only M. and N. are going to be in the wedding. Is that okay?" You can't have 14 people in a wedding party, I understand that. Leaving me hanging in the air wondering made me think all sorts of crazy thoughts.

Part of those "crazy thoughts" was that I just "wasn't going to their damn wedding". Now THAT would have been childish. As it was, we made the trip all the way up, and I had to find out from Aunt Maria the details of the wedding. I went a bit cold realizing what I was thinking as a possibility was true. I adjusted my head a bit, and then you and I talked. From there, you know where I was thinking as of Saturday morning.

We went to the wedding, and I was fine. I got there with the rest of the family and sat with Nana and where the rest of the siblings would sit. (Granted, {Stepmother}'s entire family also decided to sit there too when they shouldn't have, but what are you going to do once they sit? Make 'em move?) J. and the boys came out, and I honestly said to myself, "This is fine, I can handle it." The wedding was beautiful and I was happy to have come and told myself I was ass for considering not coming.

Afterwards when the pictures were going on was the first time I started to go downhill for the night though. Everyone had cleared out and J. called out for all the Cuttitta boys to gather up for pictures. At that point she paused, turned to me and whispered "Not you, not yet." I realized it was the wedding party, and was still okay with what was happening. I sat and talked to Nana a bit until she needed to come up.

Once we got up there, all the shuffling around took place, and the pictures started going. J. said again, "Okay, all of the boys now." I looked up, and saw {Stepmother} going up there, and realized that was her picture with her boys. No biggie. More shuffling around, and then Nana went up. You went up. A picture goes off, and then J. says, "We're missing one of the boys!" That was my first major feeling as an afterthought. A minor sting, but I smiled for the picture and moved on.

I was still pretty much okay by the time we got to the reception. Had my first drink and was going back up for my second by the time you and the rest of the wedding party got there. While I was standing there waiting for your drink and mine to be served, I looked over and saw J. with his arms over M. & N.'s shoulders getting that, "Hey, I'm at my wedding getting my picture taken with MY brothers," picture that every guy with brothers gets taken.

That's when it really hit me. Quite literally, I wasn't "in that picture".

I started to get more distant from being there as the night went on. I barely tasted my dinner. I really wanted another drink, but I didn't want to trust my mouth after having poured the 3-4 more drinks down it that I wanted to drink.

By the time J. and J. came around to greet everyone, I was pretty far gone. They walked past our table, around between our table and where your neighbors' table (were Vinnie was sitting too). They stopped behind Robyn and Bill and thanked us all for coming so long a distance. Again, I felt like an afterthought, just an out of town distant relative and not the brother of the damn groom.

In all honestly Dad, I realize that NONE of what happened was purposeful. That's what hurt all the more. I kept looking over at J. interacting with M. and N. and realized I just wasn't as close to them as I thought I was. We didn't grow up in the same town. Didn't live in the same house. Didn't go to the same schools, stores, know any of the same people. The best we had was that we got together for the vast majority of holidays as we grew up. Other than that, we basically just shared a father as a common bond.

When all of that fell down on me, I was not in a celebratory mood. I felt shittier at that point than I have almost ever felt in my life. I felt like I lost part of my identity.

All my life I've felt like I had to prove to myself and other people that I was more a part of the family that I needed to. I got into cooking because that's what my family liked to do. I grew out a beard because all the men on my dad's side of the family grew a beard. If it's something italian, I want to learn it / do it. I find myself pointing out things that seem to be common "Cuttitta traits", just to prove that yes, I'm a member of the family. After the way I started feeling this weekend about my relationship with my brothers — and how much it's not the way I thought it was — I'm questioning a lot of who I am in my life.

I'm sorry I hurt you in the way that I left. I'm sorry if I was disrespectful to you, J. and J., and especially Nana. Her more than everyone because I know this — like any visit lately — may be the last time we're all together as a family. I knew though that it would have turned into a blow-up arguement — one way or another — had I stayed that morning and / or gone to dinner. I guess that happened anyway.

I still need to put this all together in someway to tell J. & J.. I'll figure out someway to do that by the time they get back.

Love,

Me.