"Let Him Go" was intrinsicly frightening enough, but when I realized it was exactly what my stepdaughter had decided to do, it was horrifying.
Watched it with B last evening and as it wore on, the penny despairingly dropped for both of us. This was what were living -- albeit on an outwardly more "civilized" level -- oh, unless you count the menacingly, off-handed, cheek-by-jowel, out-of-bubble Thanskgiving photos stepdaughter just posted. COVID anyone?
The plot revolves around Kevin Costner and Diane Lane, grandparents who desperately want to retrieve their grandson from the clutches of the boy's maternal side. In a nutshell, their son has died and his widow re-marries into her new husband's lunatic, "deliverance-style" family, run by the ruthless and dangerous Blanche Weboy.
Our situation is different, but exactly the same. B's daughter met and married a Texan when they were both living and working right here in Calgary. They could have stayed, where we now live with the other two grands, but no, he uproots her back to Texas. "I'm a Texan from here to here," says offspring grandson a couple of years ago, pointing from his ankles to the top of his head, "but Canadian from here to here," he adds, pointing to the measly few inches from his ankle to his toes -- usually hidden by footwear.
Obviously, he has been well indoctrinated. How wonderful it would have been had they remained in Calgary, where both had good, management jobs with Hyatt Hotels. The roles would have been reversed, with the Texan in-laws having to visit, instead of B's having to make numerous trips to see them as often as we could afford.
As I have pointed out, in nine years, stepdaughter has only visited once, eight years ago. Yep, these Texan grands have effectively been stolen and lost to their doting grandfather -- never mind to me. A stoic, B has decided to concentrate his remaining years on the grands here, all his trips to the Lone Star State apparently in vain.
It has been our Alamo, except in our case the Texans won.
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