This is a long one, so apologies in advance.
I'm in my late 30s happily married with young children of my own, and I've been estranged from my parents since I was about 25. I still have some contact with my three older brothers, but it's fairly low-key.
A few days ago one of my brothers rang to tell me Mum had died.
I messaged my dad to say I was sorry for his loss. He replied saying he'd like to see me.
The problem is... I don't want to.
In fact, if I'm being completely honest, I'm not even sure I want to go to the funeral.
The backstory is this.
I didn't grow up in what most people would call a normal family. We were not and are still not rich in cash more so assets and name not saying they’re struggling but they’re not cash rich but do own everything they have as it’s been in the family for generations. We weren't just comfortably off. My family own an estate that's been in the family for generations. The house I grew up in parts of it date back to 13th century. There was always a huge emphasis on family history, tradition, reputation and doing things "properly". I know that probably sounds ridiculous to a lot of people, but it was simply normal to me growing up.
I went to St Andrews, where there were plenty of people from similar backgrounds, and that's where I met my now husband.
He came from a perfectly lovely family, but a completely different world to mine. His parents both worked, my parents did not work, they did odd bits ie write for random things but never actually had jobs or went to work they were born always home growing up my father spent his time in local politics supporting his friends who were local politicians that sort of thing, played polo, attended horse races etc. DHs family they were comfortably middle class, but there were no country estates, or centuries of family expectations hanging over them. They were warm, welcoming and refreshingly normal.
I fell in love with him.
My parents were less enthusiastic.
At first they dismissed it as a university romance that would obviously fizzle out. Then the comments started. They'd tell me it wouldn't last, that I was making a mistake, that I'd regret throwing my future away. They never seemed interested in whether he made me happy. It was always about whether he was "suitable". They’d rather I married a rich boy from a similar background to me and just got on with life that way.
Nobody ever explicitly said, "He's not wealthy enough," but it didn't need saying. It was obvious. He simply wasn't from the sort of background they'd imagined for me.
Over time I realised there was nothing he could ever do to be accepted because the issue wasn't really him as a person. It was what he represented. I'd stepped away from the life they'd planned for me.
Eventually I stopped trying to convince them.
There wasn't one enormous row where everyone stormed out. It was more that I reached the point where every visit left me upset, every phone call became another conversation about how I was ruining my life, and I simply couldn't do it anymore.
So I chose my relationship.
And yes, in doing so, I chose a life without my parents.
Years later, we're still together. We've built a wonderful life, we've raised children, and the relationship everyone confidently predicted would collapse has turned out to be the best thing that's ever happened to me.
I've also spent time in therapy.
For a long time I carried huge amounts of guilt. I wondered whether I'd overreacted or whether I should have tried harder. Therapy helped me accept that sometimes you can love people but still recognise that having them in your life isn't healthy.
The strange thing is, I don't feel angry anymore.I don't spend my life thinking about them.I don't wish them ill. I don’t want their money or anything. I've simply moved on.
So when my brother rang to tell me Mum had died, I was sad in a strange sort of way. Not because we'd not had a relationship these past years we hadn't but because any tiny possibility that things might one day be different disappeared with that phone call.
I sent Dad a brief message because I genuinely am sorry he's lost his wife. They have always kept contact ie birthdays, they’ve always sent a text etc.
But now he wants to see me.
And I genuinely don't know why.
We've missed Christmases, my wedding, pregnancies, the births of grandchildren... all those opportunities came and went. Nobody ever picked up the phone and said, "Can we try again?"
Now, suddenly, because Mum has died, it feels like everyone expects the past to disappear.
It hasn't.
Part of me thinks I'd only be going to the funeral because it's what's expected of a daughter, not because it reflects the reality of our relationship.
My husband has said he'll support whatever I decide. He's never once encouraged or discouraged contact over the years. My brothers think I should at least meet Dad because I'll never have another opportunity.
Maybe they're right.
Or maybe I've already done my grieving over the family I lost years ago.
AIBU for not wanting to see my dad or even attend the funeral? Has anyone been through something similar and regretted staying away, or regretted going?