But with the upcoming holiday fast approaching, I find my mind wandering. Wandering to that dark side where negativity and thoughts of lack reign. The last day or two, my mind has crossed that dreaded line and ventured well beyond the point of no return.
I've never had a big family. While the numbers of the Wickey / Eckert clan aren't small, the minds of the family members tend to be, thus keeping us apart due to hurt feelings, petty differences, and mind-numbing altercations where "she said this, and he said that, and I'm certainly never speaking to them again..."
As a child, Christmases and Thanksgivings were spent with just my mother, my father, and Mrs. Papajohn - an elderly shut-in from our church. (Her family didn't really care to speak to her, either.) During the mornings, I'd help my mother stuff the turkey, tidy up the kitchen, and then I'd retreat to my room and usually read a book until dinner time. Later in the day, after my mother picked up Mrs. Papajohn, the four of us would gather around our kitchen table and quietly eat our holiday dinner. We'd listen to Mrs. Papajohn scold my mother for allowing me to indulge in a tiny glass of wine, the adults would talk some about current affairs, and that'd be it. After desert, we'd take Mrs. Papajohn back home, and then the holiday would be over. No more, no less.
Now, I'm not trying to invoke a pity party here. I loved my childhood, and my parents made holidays as enjoyable for me as they could. But with my two older brothers stationed overseas with the Air Force, and the rest of my mother's family and father's family bickering back and forth, the only person they could scrounge up for holiday dinners was Mrs. Papajohn. (Actually, I adored old Mrs. Papajohn. She had lovely orange hair and always brought along mittens she had knitted especially for me in wild, mismatched colors.)
But, all in all, holidays as I knew them were quiet, short, mild, and small. Not the boisterous type of holidays most families have: one or two sets of grandparents, three or four aunts and uncles, countless cousins, second cousins, nieces and nephews, dogs, cats, fish... I didn't have a crazy Uncle Norman who told the same humorless yet endearing jokes year after year. There was no kind-hearted grandmother who baked pies and cakes and cookies all day long and then tucked me and my cousins into bed at night after telling us a Christmas story. Talk at the dinner table wasn't centered around fond memories of holidays past. Our house wasn't loud and filled with the merriment and laughter that is usually associated with those types of family oriented holidays.
It was just me. My mom. My dad. And old Mrs. Papajohn.
Please don't get me wrong. I'm grateful for each and every one of my holiday experiences. But this is my blog and I'll whine if I want to.
My experience with families, for the most part, has not been good. When I think of the term family, I immediately think: high-maintenance, demanding, selfish, fickle, bitter, angry, hurt, pain, despair, and guilt. In fact, anytime I hear the word family, my guard immediately goes up. To be honest, I do my best to avoid the topic altogether.
Over the years, not having a big family has bothered me less and less. I'm grateful for the family that I do have and know that family, like anything else, is really what you make of it. The family members that are a part of my life now are great, and that, I guess, is what matters most.
With that being said, I still experience thoughts of lack whenever I think about family. My brother and sister-in-law live clear across the country, and a few of my other family members are scattered back in the Midwest. Very small numbers. Very distant relations.
Again, I try not to focus on lack and scarcity. And, I'm proud to say, I usually do a damn good job. But with the Fourth of July coming up, and talks of a baby on the horizon, I just can't help but feel all alone. Completely, utterly, hopelessly alone.
_______________________
“Families are about love overcoming emotional torture.”
-- Matt Groening
_________________
