"La Forza"
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Friday, September 22, 2006
The World through Blue Eyes
It's always interesting the way things come together, sometimes in ways you least expect. It's been an interesting month since the last time I made an entry here. I spent some time travelling ( I have now seen the desert- hot during the day, cold at night, and dry, dry, dry). I went through about three different climates to get there. A change of environment can do you a world of good, and travelling can give you new eyes to see where you are at. I thought that when I made my next entry here it would be about what i saw travelling around the state, but in fact, I gotr a curveball which showed me more about where I have been, where I am, and how things fit together.
Somewhere in the middle of all of the travelling my young cousin Josh took his own life. 20 years old, the same age as his uncle who did the same, back in 1957. I could go on about what a loving sweet kid he was (and honestly, he really was). But what would be the point? My family has had it's ups and downs over the years, and it seemed like the whole family had finally gotten past that tragedy back in the fifties.
Marv's suicide cast a very long shadow over the family; his generation and the one that followed. He died long before I was born, yet we always felt his presence- in the unspoken , the silent pauses when he was mentioned, the occaisonal comment from the adults. I hadn't seen Josh since he was little, but the pain and anguish of his passing affected us all in ways we would not have anticipated; if anyone had seen it coming, and no one did. His mother discovered him, just as she found her brother back in the fifties. It was a nightmare, an indescribable nightmare. I was on the phone with my sisters, my aunt, and other loved ones. My Mom actually went to the funeral, the first gathering of that clan to include her since the divorce- was that 1991? I don't even recall. I have never been this far from home when my family had a crisis, and I'm just now getting over the homesickness that overcame me that week. But even long distance, we came together in a way I never would have thought 20 years ago, when it seemed like all we shared was conflict. There is a lot more than blood which binds a family together, something I really needed to learn again.
I love my family, and I am grateful for every one of my brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, Mother and Father(s). I was raised, for better or worse, by my stepdad, and for all our years of conflict, we have reached the point where I have realized that all those years together bonded us together. My "dad" died twenty years ago this month ( tomorrow would have been his 71st birthday. I loved him, but he was rarely there for me. He loved me, but we never really had a chance to bond. I was nearly a year old when they got me, I have often wondered is this made a difference. I think it did have some effect, but then again, he just never seemed to know what to do. And when my Mom left with me, because she couldn't communicate with him, because she couldn't be with someone so emotionally unavailable, I think he just gave up. He just wasn't very good at expressing his feelings, or acting on them But there were always people there for me, doing the best they could. I am very lucky, I have a large family. So large they aren't even all related to one another. And they have set aside a lot of differences sometimes, and shown that a very diverse group of people can come together when the need is there. I always felt a lot of tension between my families, and it was never eay to figure out where I belonged in all of it. Physically I have never felt that my family was a close biological match, and I was aware of comments made about these differences. Too aware, and I allowed it to feed my own insecurities for too long. Mostly I have already resolved that within myself, I know who my family is and I know who I am.
I called my biological mother back in the nineties, wanting to know more about myself. It was a brief and not altogether pleasant conversation. I called again in 99, driven by a need for more concrete information, and we barely talked a few minutes, I was rebuffed. Last Sunday I called her again, thinking "3's a charm". To my surprise, this blue eyed woman opened up, and we had a long conversation, heartfelt and very healing. I haven't even begun to process the impact of this event (I have wanted to have this conversation for years), but it felt good. Nature of Nurture? There are many ways in which I am like my family, the ones who loved and raised me. Still I saw much of myself eerily reflected during this conversation with the woman who gave me life. In the interest of privacy, (hers and mine), I have very little to say beyond that, but it was a very healing moment- for both of us. I no longer have a sense that I am just a ghost from long ago, (which I did, though I don't think I ever put it that way before) Whether a ghost from her past, or the ghost with blue eyes being raised in a brown eyed family. Something very deep has been resolved, something I always felt but never really knew. Difficult to articulate, but important nonetheless. Maybe I'll write more later, but for now that's all I have to say.
Life is not about sorrow, and sometimes things work out. Maybe they always work out for the best. All of a sudden my bright blue eyes don't seem to matter as much in a family with brown eyes. And any deep and lingering doubts I may have had about where I fit in the scheme of things have melted away. I belong where I choose to belong, and I love because I am loved. And I have great choices; funny how I never noticed that before. I have now.
The heart is an amazing organ, it pumps the blood which may people think of as the source of the bond between family members. But really, the heart does much more than that, it is a long held symbol of love, the love that brings us all together. And wherever people come together in a deep, enduring, and loving way, there is family. And I am deeply grateful for mine.
And Josh, rest in peace. I wish you could have found another way, we'll miss you. Whatever demons you carried, we will do better. Somehow you weren't able to feel the love we had for you in your darkest moment. The love we found in your passing was there all along, and I'm sorry you missed that. I for one, won't forget, and intend to do my very best to make sure the next generation doesn't forget either. Maybe that was your final gift to us. As the grieving lessens, I think this is what we'll find, the gift of love. and the truth of what bonds us together. Something which is always there. And will always be there, if we choose to see. Blue eyes or brown eyes, we only need to open our hearts to see the truth.
Somewhere in the middle of all of the travelling my young cousin Josh took his own life. 20 years old, the same age as his uncle who did the same, back in 1957. I could go on about what a loving sweet kid he was (and honestly, he really was). But what would be the point? My family has had it's ups and downs over the years, and it seemed like the whole family had finally gotten past that tragedy back in the fifties.
Marv's suicide cast a very long shadow over the family; his generation and the one that followed. He died long before I was born, yet we always felt his presence- in the unspoken , the silent pauses when he was mentioned, the occaisonal comment from the adults. I hadn't seen Josh since he was little, but the pain and anguish of his passing affected us all in ways we would not have anticipated; if anyone had seen it coming, and no one did. His mother discovered him, just as she found her brother back in the fifties. It was a nightmare, an indescribable nightmare. I was on the phone with my sisters, my aunt, and other loved ones. My Mom actually went to the funeral, the first gathering of that clan to include her since the divorce- was that 1991? I don't even recall. I have never been this far from home when my family had a crisis, and I'm just now getting over the homesickness that overcame me that week. But even long distance, we came together in a way I never would have thought 20 years ago, when it seemed like all we shared was conflict. There is a lot more than blood which binds a family together, something I really needed to learn again.
I love my family, and I am grateful for every one of my brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, Mother and Father(s). I was raised, for better or worse, by my stepdad, and for all our years of conflict, we have reached the point where I have realized that all those years together bonded us together. My "dad" died twenty years ago this month ( tomorrow would have been his 71st birthday. I loved him, but he was rarely there for me. He loved me, but we never really had a chance to bond. I was nearly a year old when they got me, I have often wondered is this made a difference. I think it did have some effect, but then again, he just never seemed to know what to do. And when my Mom left with me, because she couldn't communicate with him, because she couldn't be with someone so emotionally unavailable, I think he just gave up. He just wasn't very good at expressing his feelings, or acting on them But there were always people there for me, doing the best they could. I am very lucky, I have a large family. So large they aren't even all related to one another. And they have set aside a lot of differences sometimes, and shown that a very diverse group of people can come together when the need is there. I always felt a lot of tension between my families, and it was never eay to figure out where I belonged in all of it. Physically I have never felt that my family was a close biological match, and I was aware of comments made about these differences. Too aware, and I allowed it to feed my own insecurities for too long. Mostly I have already resolved that within myself, I know who my family is and I know who I am.
I called my biological mother back in the nineties, wanting to know more about myself. It was a brief and not altogether pleasant conversation. I called again in 99, driven by a need for more concrete information, and we barely talked a few minutes, I was rebuffed. Last Sunday I called her again, thinking "3's a charm". To my surprise, this blue eyed woman opened up, and we had a long conversation, heartfelt and very healing. I haven't even begun to process the impact of this event (I have wanted to have this conversation for years), but it felt good. Nature of Nurture? There are many ways in which I am like my family, the ones who loved and raised me. Still I saw much of myself eerily reflected during this conversation with the woman who gave me life. In the interest of privacy, (hers and mine), I have very little to say beyond that, but it was a very healing moment- for both of us. I no longer have a sense that I am just a ghost from long ago, (which I did, though I don't think I ever put it that way before) Whether a ghost from her past, or the ghost with blue eyes being raised in a brown eyed family. Something very deep has been resolved, something I always felt but never really knew. Difficult to articulate, but important nonetheless. Maybe I'll write more later, but for now that's all I have to say.
Life is not about sorrow, and sometimes things work out. Maybe they always work out for the best. All of a sudden my bright blue eyes don't seem to matter as much in a family with brown eyes. And any deep and lingering doubts I may have had about where I fit in the scheme of things have melted away. I belong where I choose to belong, and I love because I am loved. And I have great choices; funny how I never noticed that before. I have now.
The heart is an amazing organ, it pumps the blood which may people think of as the source of the bond between family members. But really, the heart does much more than that, it is a long held symbol of love, the love that brings us all together. And wherever people come together in a deep, enduring, and loving way, there is family. And I am deeply grateful for mine.
And Josh, rest in peace. I wish you could have found another way, we'll miss you. Whatever demons you carried, we will do better. Somehow you weren't able to feel the love we had for you in your darkest moment. The love we found in your passing was there all along, and I'm sorry you missed that. I for one, won't forget, and intend to do my very best to make sure the next generation doesn't forget either. Maybe that was your final gift to us. As the grieving lessens, I think this is what we'll find, the gift of love. and the truth of what bonds us together. Something which is always there. And will always be there, if we choose to see. Blue eyes or brown eyes, we only need to open our hearts to see the truth.
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