Go away. Please!

After 40 years, B's ex is still meddling.  She's at it again.  Yesterday, he talked to their daughter and she actually said, "Mum asked me to let you know that C is suffering with cancer."  WTF!?  C is someone B was engaged to 50 years ago and hasn't spoken to since!  (There aren't enough exclamation marks on the keyboard to express how ridiculous this is.)

A few years ago, she actually called the house from some bar she was in with a couple of their "old, dear friends" and asked him to please come and join them!!!!!  Evidently, a tad over-refreshed.  They were married a total of nine years and 40 years after we got married, she's still bugging the sh-t out of us.

Then there was the Christmas where the daughter and son were over for dinner, but first we had to have a ceremony.  "Mum is giving you this book written by our dear friend blah-blah and she had it signed to you by him."  We all had to actually sit there while this bizarre voodoo ritual from the crypt took place!!!!  I have to say, their son was embarrassed -- to his credit.

And let's not forget that other memorable Christmas where yet another book presentation elaborately and relgiously unfolded.  This one from another "dear friend" from the forgotten cobwebbed reaches of the attic.  For this biggie, "Mum sent the book to England so blah-blah could sign it for you."  Wow!  That's fabulous!  Let's horn in on everything we can on the tails of the kids.  Why not!

Other times she has crashed Midnight Mass and sat with us, non-Catholic, non-anything that she is.  At funerals in Ottawa, she'd also show up and try to sit with us, until I put a stop to it.  "Mum said Nancy wouldn't let her sit with you," lamented daughter to B.  Well, boo-hoo.

I mean, seriously and seriously again!  B's ex lives in a sad world inside her own unbalanced head.  I picture her sitting like Miss Havisham in Dickens' 'Great Expectations', covered in dust and rotting wedding cake, still waiting for her betrothed to come through the door.  In past years, when trotting out the tired Christmas tinsel, she'd wander down memory lane...."Remember when we used to decorate this tree as a family...."  Cue the tears and sighs, as everyone looked downcast and sad.  Gawd!  Eventually, Ms. Havisham at least had the grace to die in a fire.  Enough said.

She also actually told B that another set of "old, dear friends" was getting back together and that  "everyone was just so thrilled!"  I should add that all these so-called "old friends" are the same people who dropped B like a hot potato when that sad marriage broke up and haven't spoken to him since.  Some ex-wives seem to live in a bizarre parallel universe.  When we got an annulment via Canon Law, she got a terse letter from the Archdiocese explaining that B had been granted an "Act of Freedom" by the Catholic Church so we could re-marry in a Catholic ceremony.  B's daughter said, "Mum didn't like that letter."  Oh, sorry, forgot.  She is apparently also in charge of all matters canonical. 

Let's remember that this is the same woman who told B to get out because she didn't want to be married to him anymore.  "I don't want to be Mrs. Marley-Clarke any longer," said the same woman who insisted on keeping his name all these years...."for the children's sake". But never mind, let's blame B -- and of course me -- for everything.  "You ruined my life," she once said to me.  "Really?  Don't know how I could have.  I didn't rear you and I don't even know you, so how I could have ruined your life would be quite the accomplishment," I replied.

When forced to leave, B moved into a dingy room at the Y and had to share a bathroom down the hall with all the other residents on that floor.  The ex, on the other hand, took it as a given she would just remain in the lap of luxury in the mansion in Rockcliffe.  His lawyer saw to it that that didn't happen, but stupidly, when the house was selling, she haughtily refused a couple of "ludicrous" offers forcing them in the end to forfeit $25,000 less than the original offer had been.  Brilliant negotiating skills there ex!

Car-less, B was finally able to rent a tiny, one-bedroom apartment and scrape together enough money to buy a used VW Beetle.  I was still living on my own with my "wife" (a live-in nanny), but funnily enough we made do, coped and even managed and go to the drive-in with all four kids jammed into that Beetle   Oh, but let's not forget the money she transferred from our account to hers in spousal and child support when the kids were growing up -- even though we had majority custody!  That, sadly, was the "judicial attitude" back in 1983, regardless of the fact that she had gazillions in inherited family money.  I always thought she should have been paying us support (see "judicial attitude" above for the answer to that one.)

"I don't want you, but I want your name and money."

I thought moving to Calgary would put an end to it all, but no.  Thanks to the never-ending cooperation of her daughter, it just goes on and on and on and on........I remember going to a party in Ottawa many years ago to which the hostess had invited B, me and his ex.  "Isn't Ottawa like an ingrown toenail," said another exasperated divorced friend, whose ex had also been invited.  Ha!  Great description!

B has grandchildren from this daughter, but do you think she ever calls of her own initiative to let them talk with each other?  That was a rhetorical question.  He has to call down there to Houston and be censored by the "gate keeper", who stands there listening and tells them what to say.  It's all so disgraceful and humiliating for any grandfather -- especially one so generous --to be treated like this.  Makes me wonder if the advice given B those many years ago wasn't right:  "Just give her the kids and money and walk away."  We had to still give her a ton of money, but at least we might have saved huge legal and psychological fees.

Before I leave this, I want to add that the psychologist her lawyer picked recommended majority custody to B, adding that, ".....if Mrs. Ex can't live with this arrangement, I recommend full custody to the father.  I have confidence that the father would not deny access, but I do not have the same confidence in the mother."  In another insightful passage he wrote, "Mrs. Ex sees everything in black and white, with her holding the latter colour."  Dead on.  In the end, that was what happened.  We had the kids and they only went to her place two days a week and every third weekend.  More brilliant work, ex!

Now, all I can say is just PLEASE go away.  Forever.