This past week I have been thinking about family even more than usual and what it really means. For those of you that don’t know me, you could say I come from a rather dysfunctional family, and that’s putting it lightly. My mom and I have had a rollercoaster of a relationship, I have thought at times that I would never speak to her ever again and would be ok with that, but then we always patch things up – because she’s my mom. My dad would have turned 68 on Thursday, August 15, but he did not as he died June 22 of this year. I only really built a relationship with him in my late teens, and it had never been one that flowed super easily, but I did love him and do miss him. My kids haven’t seen their dad since January 13th and haven’t seen their grandparents or any of their other family on their dad’s side since Christmas of last year. Nobody has made any attempt at seeing them or talking to them, the only effort has come from them, two little girls wanting what every child wants.
I wanted so desperately to give my children a “better” family than the one I grew up in. I wanted them to grow up having cousins who they had an unbreakable bond with, I wanted them to have a dad who they would grow up calling dad and whom they knew they could always depend on. I envisioned large family gatherings, reunions, their having a dad who would proudly be at every milestone in their lives; every time they spoke, sang, or played an instrument on stage, every time they scored in a game or advanced in their chosen passion, every time they graduated, when they first moved away, when they got married and had babies of their own. I hoped for them that they would never know the pain of feeling neglected or abandoned, that I could keep them from being hurt by people they cared about at least until they were old enough to go through their first inevitable break-up. Continue reading The One Thing I Can’t Give Them