Musings on family
For years and years, I’ve longed to create a family. Now one would really have to wonder why I would want to do anything like that considering my family, but you know how it goes, it’s almost an urge that has no logic. I came back to New Orleans in 2005 thinking I was coming back to be close to my family only to realize my family is moribund.
My brother told my mother that he was going to call me and when he couldn’t find my number, he took it as an omen. I said, what next frogs? Locusts?
My niece quit speaking to me back when the whole affair came to light because she said, “that could be me!” and that was only after her husband accused me of coming onto him during Hanukkah. The old me was shocked but wanted to make sure he didn’t feel embarrassed about what he was accusing me of so I kept stumbling over my shock and disbelief, the new me would have told him that he was out of his FUCKING MIND.
Another niece decided that she had one family member too many so she basically quit returning my phone calls.
My sister and I have been in contra flow for most of our life and even now in the state she is in, I find no paths open for a connection.
Another brother is in prison.
A brother moved blocks away from me and who knew?
And yet, I feel such a strong connection to my girlfriend, friends, my mother, my friend’s children that I wonder what is the construct of family? Is it accidental to have a family you belong to or is it that growing up with a thrice divorced autocrat, an alcoholic, and a gene pool that makes me go WHOA, the best I could say is been there, done that, and pass the gravy.
I’m not sad that my family is all but a memory (mind you, I still have a few close ones), it’s more like I’m sad for the loss of who I thought we were, not who we are.