Family ties

My family once upon a time

I am not in this picture of my family, but my five siblings and their children at the time are in there, along with a couple young men who were friends, but not actual family members. That's my mom and dad in the middle of the top row, both looking very happy and healthy. Daddy died in 1979, so I figure this picture must have been taken in the early to mid-1970s. That's a long time ago, almost half a century or thereabouts. But the ties are still there, and always will be.

It was probably taken in my parents' backyard, set up and captured with a timer by Pete, my sister Norma Jean's husband, in the back row, second from the left. He's been gone since early 2011, but he was a talented photographer and took many wonderful pictures similar to this of our family. Pictures like this one freeze a moment in time, one that will never come again, but that will be looked at and exclaimed over for generations to come. That little boy in the front row, second from the left, Jason, is now himself the father of four teenagers. The little elfin girl, fourth from the left, my niece Allison, is the mother of two and a colonel in the Army.

Where was I when the picture was taken? I have no idea, but many of these family members lived in Texas and often gathered at my parents' home in Fort Worth. At the time, I was probably in California, or maybe Michigan, but I was nowhere near enough to be with my family. For many years, even after Daddy died, home was wherever my mother was. Mama lived for another fourteen years after he died. She was a consummate homemaker and always managed to create a feeling of home wherever she lived. I still miss her, because without her on the planet, I've been without a place to call home. I've made my own homes, of course, but none feels like the safe environment I always felt when I was with her.

I just finished a book that has reminded me of how fortunate I've been to have such a family. It is a memoir written by Nicole Chung, a young woman of Korean heritage who was adopted as an infant by a couple who were unable to bear children. She grew up knowing nothing of her heritage, and although it was obvious she was not like the other children in her school, nobody actually talked to her about her birth parents. It was a "closed" adoption and no contact was allowed between the adoptive parents and the birth parents. When Nicole was old enough to ask questions, she discovered more about her origins and eventually became reconciled with some of her birth family. The book, All You Can Ever Know, tells her story of what it was like to grow up where nobody looked like her. It wasn't until she went off to college that she was surrounded by other Asian Americans and realized she needed to find out the rest of her story. I loved the book, and it's made me think about my own family, and how much we are tied to one another through birth.

Although I have several siblings, I am closest to Norma Jean, nearest to me in age, but the rest of my large family are all dear to me and very much cherished. What happens to them, even if I don't see them for years at a time, matters mightily to me. My youngest sister Fia is about to undergo a serious surgery, and I am afraid for her, but I know she will be well taken care of by her husband and the sister closest to her in age, Markee. Fia is twenty years younger than me, born after I had grown up and married, so I feel more like an aunt to her than a sister. But sister she is, and will be on my mind until she has recovered. Our brother and sister-in-law live near her and will also offer moral support, I'm sure. But she will be on my mind until she's out of the woods.

When I left home, I was only nineteen. Looking back, I felt like I was an adult, but now that I am in my later years, I realize how young I truly was. So much life ahead of me then, and now a half century later, I've lived most of it, with my dear partner with me for a quarter of a century. I am so grateful for every single day of my life, both in the past and in the present, and although we can never see the future or know what it will bring, I can now look back over much of my life and see that it's been a good one. Family means everything to me these days.

What the next generation will value most is not what we owned, but the evidence of who we were and the tales of how we lived. In the end, it's the family stories that are worth the storage. ― Ellen Goodman

Part of the problem of ageing is that those who knew us when we were young begin to leave us, and if we don't find out our family history, our stories, today, tomorrow might be too late to find out. There are so many questions I would ask my parents, if I could, and I wish I had been more aware of how much I would lose by not asking those questions long ago. These days, when I talk with my sister on FaceTime, we often reminisce about times gone by, and I am always amazed at how different our memories are of the same event. Now they are simply stories without any way to check their veracity. But really, who cares any more? I love the fact that we still have each other to share the "facts" with.

I am presently busy making memories with my dear partner, ones that are captured much more accurately because of this blog, for one, which gives me a chance to relive old times just by reading what I wrote a decade ago. And it also gives me a reminder that my memories change the past: what I wrote is not what I remember. Yes, it's important to chronicle our lives if we want to know whatever truths the past might hold for us.

And now it's time for me to move into the rest of my day. I haven't even looked at the news, which I often do before I begin to write this post, but today I have no interest in what's going on outside my own sphere. That won't last long, but for now it's enough just to remember my family, love them and be grateful that I have been blessed with such a great one. And I must also acknowledge how much I have changed my definition of family, because the one that is here with me in this blog is very much a part of my life: my virtual family. I care about those I will never meet in person, and our lives have intersected here in profound ways.

Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things, and that you will have family of whatever sort you choose surrounding you through your days. Be well until then, dear ones.