Come Together

There are rifts and issues in my family that have existed longer than the Hatfield’s and McCoy’s. We have been so angry at each other for so long that any of the seven of us would be hard pressed to give a reason for this angst. Sadly my concern for a stranger on the street was more real than these people that I shared DNA and history.

Well not anymore. I don't know what caused this epiphany. I was sitting at my computer, working on a research paper about holding grudges and how it affects health. I sipped my coffee and suddenly, I had the urge to talk with (not AT) my oldest sister. The last time I saw her was at our mother's funeral. What should have been a time of reflection and reverence became a ghetto-fied, stereotypical embarrassment to the human condition. We never came together as siblings to truly grieve. We were too busy assigning blame. So I called her. (I took two valium first, said a prayer second and took several deep breathes.) She didn't recognize my voice. Why would she since she hadn't heard it in a humble tone in more than 25 years.
I was loaded for bear, ready to hear dial tone after a being called a myriad of expletives. I was knocked down. We laughed; we cried; we talked. For six years, there has been a void in my life that I've always assumed was a result of our mother's passing. I realize that it was deeper. The same grief that I feel because my granddaughter was whisked away to Morocco on such short notice, I was experiencing at the loss of my family. I truly missed my sister. Every so often, I would run across a picture of her in my old photo albums and despite everything in me, I would smile. She is a beautiful, beautiful woman. Eleven years my senior, she was one of my primary caretakers while my mother worked. She taught me to read, encouraged my writing. She paralleled my mother when she had her own children and showed me the true meaning of sacrifice. For as long as I can remember, she was always as proud of my accomplishments as she was for my nieces and nephews. Her hugs were genuine, her kisses real, her laugh infectious. This is what I missed. This is what we took tentative steps to rebuild. Three hours later, we reluctantly heeded the low-battery warnings of our phones and promised to call each other often.Wow, that was such a positive experience that I decided to press my luck. I called my oldest brother, 23 years my senior, same circumstances. And there was no answer. Alright, I figured that he saw my number on the caller id and decided not to pick up. Leave it to me to always think of the negative first. An hour or so later, his number showed up when my phone rang and he was literally out of breathe. The phrases were rushed, hurried, nearly panicked. He came home and saw my number. Knowing that I was his only relative in Oklahoma and that he had no other business here, he thought that something was terribly wrong. Why else would a sister who didn’t even bother to call him after his wife had a stroke make contact now? He was genuinely concerned that my health or one of the kids was in jeopardy! He started with “Is everything okay?” Not “why the heck are you calling me after six years?” After waylaying his fears, I told him why I called. He told me that there wasn’t a day that passed that he didn’t struggle with calling me, but he didn’t want to cause me any pain. Two hours on the phone, passing between him and the children and back and forth over and over, we reluctantly decided that rest was needed. After all, we’re getting old. He told me that he could never stop loving me, no matter what. After we hung up, I held the phone and cried.


My birth family is a hodgepodge of diversity. My oldest brother and I are Muslims. The twins are devout Christians. My oldest sister is agnostic and still the other holds more of our Native Lakota heritage beliefs. My other brother is the most atheist that I’ve ever seen. We all have or had children. Now we all have grandchildren. It was an embarrassment to us that our children barely know each other, yet they are cousins. Our mother would not be pleased. Let me assure you that this was not how we were raised. We know better. We just let emotions and passions, obstinacy and stupidity get in the way of reason and logic and family. We forgot that we were blood. We Muslims just celebrated Eid ul Adha. The my sisters are preparing for Christmas and the Winter Solstice. My second brother is just waiting to see whose menu he wants to partake. We are all looking forward to my birthday. These are indeed times for family. Even though we are separated by miles, the distances are less than 10 hours apart. Fortunately, my oldest brother lives in a place of continual warm weather. He has taken the lead and opened his home to ALL of us and our passels of tag-alongs.


In this season of family, I am reaching out and rebuilding mine. Life’s too short to hold a grudge. Let go. For real. Call somebody. If nothing else your side of the street will be clean. And who among us couldn’t use a little cleanliness?



PEACE!
ADD


PS: Thank you Cindy and Stacey (you know who you are!)