For those of you that know me, family has always been a main part of my life, and a major part of my identity. Coming to terms with impact of my family break-down and subsequent events, the blessings and challenges has continued to be an ongoing journey. For years I have tried to make sense of my inner battles, trying to make sense of the tornadoes that whirl up inside of me, a complex mix of sadness, grief, hopefulness and above all, a desire to survive whilst painting the most beautiful and glorious portrait of my family.
More recently I have returned to therapy to process my last relationship, and of course, without surprise, we end up back at the beginning, my family. Not to blame, or cast resentment or anger, but to try and heal loss and sadness, conflict and fear established before I knew how to name these emotions. This has sent me on a sobering journey of hurt, unresolved loss and wholehearted grief over what I would easily identify as the loss of my greatest love.
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And so, it turns out I never really got over the way we separated. A decision drawing dividing lines between us. I always thought we would be together forever, grow old together, still singing the songs of our childhood, Friday night Chinese school and dinners out, taking turns picking video rentals at Rogers, Mario party and Mario kart until the morning, sleepovers at the foot of mom and dad’s beds, annual vacations to the most magical and happiest place on earth. Not because of the rides, or even the fireworks, because I was with you guys, we were together and my world felt complete.
But then everything changed.
We were no longer one unit, unspoken walls and vast divides grew between us. We each saw and experienced the breakdown differently, and what felt like magical fantastical reality of us as a family, was broken into a million pieces, never to look the same again. And so we all walked our separate directions, some farther than others, tearing apart that world we once built together and fought so hard to preserve and enjoy together.
I swear, I thought I understood. I thought I had accepted it. All that it was, and all that it was not.
I watched it unfold before my eyes. I did everything I could. But it had already been lost, and my inability to accept the new harsh reality perhaps created the biggest distance from you all. As life continued for everyone else, in acceptance of what had happened, I did everything in my power to preserve my portrait of us and remain in denial about what had happened, pushing you all together to try to recreate even a fleeting moment of “us”.
Our beautiful family, as I had known it, would never exist the same way again.
It turns out that the little girl in me had held on tight to everything. So much that every Christmas or holidays that we were under one roof after the separation, I would weep quietly to myself, half grieving as my adult self, and half rejoicing as that young girl, trying to convince myself that we were still a unit, we were still a family. Fighting the reality of passing time, diverging interests, growing up and apart. I found my own way to hold us together, omitting all the difficult times, and over-emphasizing the positive.
But now I see. We weren’t perfect, we never were. And now, we just are what we are.
But I now see us clearly. I can see everything. The magic, the joy, the hurt, the pain, the disappointment, the unspoken things, the sacrifice, the hope, the love and the permanent tie that will always continue to hold us all together, no matter what happens.
And now that I can see us clearly. Grief speaks; weighing heavily on my heart and mind.
But finally, I know that I can love us better for what our family is today. Not as I had always pretended us to be.
