Pre-Easter

I found out by total fluke yesterday that my sister is hosting Easter dinner at her house—and that my dad will be there. So of course, I won’t be going. I had assumed, based on what she told me six weeks ago, that since they were heading to Disneyland on Easter Sunday, they were skipping the holiday altogether. I thought my mom and I would go to brunch, and my dad would be spending the day alone in his retirement home, which honestly felt like the natural consequence of his actions. But, as usual, that’s not how things are playing out.

What makes it even sadder is that no one told me. Not my sister, not my mom—no one thought I might need a heads-up. I was completely left out of the loop, and it hurts. It’s like they don’t get how much this kind of thing affects me, or maybe they just don’t want to deal with it. And to suggest I could “just avoid” my dad in a house full of six people? That’s not only unrealistic—it’s dismissive. I refuse to put myself in that situation.

I’m actually glad I found out last minute so I didn’t have too much time to stress over it. But it’s still a reminder of how often my feelings get overlooked. It’s not just about missing a holiday—it’s about being made to feel like the outsider in my own family, again.