Family In Blacksburg

Just passed the Blacksburg exit where some of my family lives. It probably wouldn’t have made an impression on me (I pass it on occasion), but I waved in the direction of their houses. It struck me as appropriate. I’m passing them in the middle of the night and they’ll never know that I was nearby. Not that they would care if they knew.
I haven’t been a part of that bunch since my aunt Margie (my father’s half-sister) died, essentially severing the only blood tie I had with them. They’ve done lip service, of course. “Come see us sometime.” But when I do, I only meet with discomfort and strained conversation.
They act like they’re a little afraid of me. I can’t imagine why they would be. It’s like I represent some dark secret that they want to keep at arm’s length. I’ve even found out things about my Aunt Margie that shocked me (like her not telling my recently acquainted uncle, Allen (my father’s step-brother through his father) about Justin, Tanya or I).
I’ve gone over this hundreds of times. I’ll probably never understand it. Especially since the family in Blacksburg aren’t talking.

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