I heard from my cousin, who read the essay I published last week about my grandmother, my great-grandfather, my father, and me. He is denying that there is anything to what I am saying at all about my grandmother, father, and the family in general, calling it "fiction."
I suppose I should not be surprised. My family is so closed mouthed about nearly everything! I guess my grandmother instilled it in them. They are in denial about most problems, whether they are political or personal, but the problems don't go away. They tend to get worse and fester.
This is a difficulty that every autobiographical writer probably has to face: dealing with the feelings and views of the people one writes about. They have their right to their own perspectives, but not to deny mine.