I have a lot of thoughts about Family today, and how fitting
it is on this day; a day when, seventeen years ago, I symbolically became a
part of the family I lived with. It was
also a day spent with the families of my students, and a day spent with another
kind of family I never expected to find – my work family.
The day began like every other day should begin – in a
blanket cave, which had been painstakingly built the night before by one of my
closest friends and myself. I firmly
believe that when one encounters a room with an excessive amount of both bunk
beds and blankets, one must answer the call of the blanket cave, and it does
not matter how old one is when the call comes.
But maybe I should rewind a bit for those of you who don’t
know me, because while blanket cave is a good starting point for just about
anything, it may not be the best starting point for this slightly more serious
piece of writing. Let’s go back to one
of my earliest memories…
I remember being in a bright room, and I was walking. Though hobbling may be a better word as I
probably had just learned to walk not long before this memory. Anyway, I remember walking towards a man and
a woman, both of whom I recognized and wanted to be with, and they were smiling
and laughing. I know these people were
my biological mom and my biological dad, though I probably wasn’t using words
like that at the time. This is the only
memory I have of them together. Beyond
that, my earliest memories are of an apartment complex I lived in with my mom,
and I remember a lot of couch cushion forts and a really cool bed that had a
house on it.
I know a lot of children of divorced parents have this
fantasy where their parents eventually get back together, and for some people,
this fantasy persists well into adulthood.
I have never, to my knowledge, wanted my parents back together. Every memory I have beyond that bright, happy
room is of them separately, and I have always known (to some extent) that it
was better that way. Now, knowing them
both as an adult, I am very happy that they divorced, because they are both
very happy with their current spouses.
But I also think that perhaps I was not a typical child of divorce. Both of my parents had large families, and
when they each remarried other people, I essentially had at my disposal (as
much as a child can have at their disposal) four separate families. And as the first baby, grandbaby,
great-niece, you-name-it in ALL of them, I had all of my needs met and
more. In fact, I think that this is
perhaps why I turned out to be such a social person; I was always surrounded by
people.
Each of my biological parents met and married new people,
and I gained a new brother (biological dad’s wife’s son) and eventually, a new
sister (biological mom and husband’s daughter).
Siblings were weird and awesome and exciting all at the same time, but
my sister in particular meant something significant at the time: my primary
family (biological mom, husband, new baby) would all have the same name, and I
would be the only one on the other side of that invisible name barrier. I shared the name of my biological father and
his wife, but at this point in my life, I didn’t have a lot of contact with
them.
So, seventeen years ago on April 28th, we piled
into the local courthouse and in front of a room full of people and very tall
seats, my mom’s husband swore that he would take care of me as if I were his
own. See picture below (featuring
Brandon Bunny).
Let’s take a moment for me to say something else that is
very important. This is perhaps the
first time I have discussed in so much detail the dynamics of my family and how
it all fits in my head and life and memories, and I know that members of all of
my families read this blog, so I want to make sure that I say this. I know, and I have always known, that when I
talk about something good with one family, it can unintentionally hurt
another. My life was confusing and big
and loud with all of these relatives (often people I couldn’t remember) and
although there were some dark times where I never felt like I fit anywhere
because I was stuck in between, I would not change this dynamic for
anything. I love how all of the pieces
of my life and my family fit together, even when they don’t. I could go on and on here, but I want to get
to some other stuff too.
Anyway, I was reminded of a lot of these feelings last night
as I listened to the parents of my students tell their stories and support one
another. Some of the things that were
said really hit home for me, because it made me realize some of the motivations
that my parents might have had for some of the things they did. As I listened to the parents discuss their
daughters, the good times and the bad and the scary and the wordlessly
beautiful, I cried. In fact, I’ve been
crying for two days now, and I don’t see it ending any time this week because
we are going back and doing the same thing all over again with our boys and
their families. (For those of you who
don’t know, I work in a residential treatment center and our kids are separated
by sex for good reason.)
But the perfect thing is this: I’m not the only crier. In fact, dry eyes were a rare sight. And this is where I get to brag about the
biggest family I’ve ever had. Listening
to the parents discuss their lives before their family found us made me realize
just how awesome it is to be a part of that change in their lives (and I’m not
making this up – I seriously had a mom tell me that this was a life-changing
experience…how mind-boggling amazingly BEAUTIFUL is it to be a part of
that?). And I get to do this with the
best group of people. Working closely with
almost 200 other people who feel with their whole hearts and souls and give
everything they have while caring for kids who can’t always give back is better
than anything I could have expected for my life, and COME ON I used to want to
run a zoo! My heart was overflowing
today as I listened and watched as families hugged and carried on with normal
conversations, because that may not have been possible before.
So from waking up in a blanket fort to a text from my mom
this morning that says, “Happy Family Day!
I love you!” to the email from dad with picture of me at the courthouse
attached this afternoon, to the sweet thinking of you text message from Poppa
this evening, to the greeting from my new family (fiancé, future-father-in-law,
and animals) when I got home, to all of the countless supportive messages,
emails, phone calls, bear hugs, and letters from all of my families over the
years, know that I have listened to everything you said, even when you didn’t
say it, and I am helping to teach other people with big, loud, jumbled families
how to navigate the stormy waters, even when I’m just teaching English
class. I am so full of love and
gratitude today, and I hope that I will always feel this way, because it is
hands-down the best feeling I’ve ever had in my life.
-WW
