Those of us in the life all have coming out stories.  It’s all part of the process of coming to terms with who we are.  It’s a process that never ends.  As we add new people into our lives, we’re constantly making the “By the way, I’m gay,” disclaimer.  It gets easier with each telling.

For most, the hardest coming out is to our parents.  Friends and peers our own age are generally accepting.  But deep seated religious beliefs or generation gaps can make parents rougher waters to navigate.

Like most, I was nervous to come out to my parents.  Not because I had any fear they’d reject me, but because I was already going through a difficult divorce.  I was concerned about throwing one more log on an already raging inferno of worry.

My parents took it in stride though.  Fortunately, they seemed to understand I hadn’t really changed.  My gayness was simply a new facet to my personality.  Most people who knew me before I came out were hardly surprised when I did.  While I think my folks were a little surprised, it was more surprise that I waited so long to come to terms with who I am.

As I was going through the initial barrage of coming out a friend told me, “Those   who matter won’t mind and those who mind don’t matter.”  This corollary seemed to hold true.  But the matter of my extended family remained.

I chose to ignore it for a long time.  I don’t see my extended family often.  My parents really weren’t pushing me.  Many of my extended family are fairly conservative.  I was reticent to push it on them if I didn’t have to.  I’d been through a divorce, there was nothing suspicious about my living alone.

But, happily, I didn’t remain single.  After dating for a long time, I found myself in a committed relationship.  We moved in together, blended our family of felines and one canine.

My partner is relatively open with her family.  Her parents know and are accepting.  Her extended family is welcoming as well.  I go to family reunions and holidays just as any other spouse would.

While my partner was always welcome at my parents, we never went to any of my family gatherings.  I had a heavy heart about it but had resigned myself that it was best this way.

When my mother’s sister passed away suddenly last Thanksgiving, I took my partner to the funeral.  One of my cousin’s is also gay so I figured it would be ok.  No one blinked.  In fact, had it not been such a sad event it was kind of amusing how many gay and lesbian folks were crammed into the pews of that Baptist church to mourn my aunt’s loss.

I never came out to any of my cousins on my mother’s side.  It seemed I didn’t need too.  There was a tacit understanding there and that was going to have to be enough.

I was still avoiding events on my father’s side of the family.  It’s a much larger group and I’ve always had trouble gauging them.  Then a cousin-in-law friended me on FaceBook.

Ah FaceBook, it’s really revolutionized how we stay connected with one another … and not always in a good way.  While it may be easy to turn down the request of an old high school flame, turning down your own flesh and blood is, well, mean.  So I accepted her request.

Awhile later, another cousin sent me a friend request.  This cousin started asking to get together and why wasn’t I coming to the family reunion?

Why, indeed?

Ever the coward, I didn’t go.  I made excuses.  I decided they’d all reject me if they knew.  I didn’t want to put myself, much less my partner, through that.  So, I spent the weekend at home.

And I felt guilty about it.

So I came clean.  I wrote my cousin a long, tortured FaceBook message explaining I was gay and afraid of the family’s reaction.  I wrote defensively about how my partner and I were no different from any other married couple, save the fact we just happened to be two women.  Then I girded myself for the icy silence I was sure would follow.

My cell phone rang about ten minutes after I hit send.  It was my cousin.  She said, “Honey, we know.  We don’t care.  We were worried you thought we were ashamed of you.”

I guess I’m going to the next family event.