Maeko Loves #3: Family

Family.

You don’t always love them. In fact, you can sometimes hate them. Only in these people can you feel love and hatred in both equal measure. They are able to get under your skin in more ways than even your most unparalleled enemy could ever dream. They elevate your happiness to the highest heights, where you soar amongst regal eagles, borne on the undaunted currents of contentment. And at the same time, they can plunge you into the depths of the deepest hidden chasms of the oceans of despair and desperation. Only those whom we love most, can we at times detest most. Yet in the end we cannot sever the bond that links us so indelibly: blood. Written into the very fabric of our being, our cells, our delicate, ribbon-like DNA, we are chemically bound to our family, a genetic binding that although in essence only scientific, still goes beyond our ability to see, explore, imperially prove.

This is what “family” looks like to me.

My husband, N.

My “son”, Max (also known as “Bear”, since he looks like a fluffy little bear).

My sister (in law), T.

My brother, L.

My mum and dad, M & H.

My grandmothers, C and C.

It was for my grandmothers that N and I married in Victoria, British Columbia. And it was also for them that we spent our Christmas holiday back there.

I don’t usually wax sentimental about most people other than my husband, but I thought it was time to dedicate some love to my own family, some the most important people in my life.

I’ve always placed a lot more value in my best friends than in my family members, sad to admit. But lots of social/extroverted often find that they forge stronger connections with external parties than with internal. I always felt that my beat friends would always accept me as I am, love without agency, without trying to change me. Would always know me best. My best friends become my family. The proverbial friends that stick closer than brothers.

But Lately, I’ve been learning that my own blood can be these types of people–beyond a label of “family” or “friend”–unconditional love that transcends all definition. And there are friends that do stick closer than brothers, but there are also friends who come and go. And you can hardly ever leave your family.

My grandmother C (the one in the Senior Home photo) is 96 years old. She spent Christmas day in the ICU and then the rest of the time we were in Victoria, committed to a hospital room.

Throughout my childhood, I ignored her, or rebuffed her overly nurturing attempts at showering me with affection as insanely over-bearing. I found her grandfathering MO too involved, too in-your-face, too babying, too soft, too intense, smothering. And because of my hands-off approach to our relationship, I didn’t spend as much time as I should have getting to know her as a person. She was always my Gram. I loved and I love her, of course, but as a defiant child growing up with two battling cultures–a Western culture of California, and raised in a home with the stifling, strict culture of my heritage–I found my Gram’s often-needling, smothering presence in my life oppressive.

Anyway, long story short: I feel now that I neglected her, and that I should know her better for who she is. Lately, she has had too many “close calls”, and we’re not sure how much longer she has.

Lesson: do not neglect your family. You may feel they are annoying, prying, nosy, but except for certain situations, you cannot divorce your family. Don’t make the same mistake I did.

Is there someone in your life you feel you have neglected to treat like “family”, because of your selfish interpretation of their affection?