Family. One word, many different meanings and emotions.  Some define family as a mother, father, sibling, aunts, uncles, and cousins who are biologically related. Others define family as those people who come into your life that you feel deserve the title of family. Often those people are not related by blood. I have been blessed in my life to have both types of family.

I was pondering family as I was on my two-hour drive north this past weekend to see my bio crew. I was born an accident. My mother always said I was the best accident that ever happened to her. My parents were older. My mom was 39 when she found out she was pregnant with me. My parents already had 3 boys who were mostly grown. My oldest brother Gary was married and in Vietnam when mom told him she was pregnant. Jay was in high school and Ted was in middle school. Mom went to the doctor’s thinking she was going through “the change” only to find out she was in for a CHANGE. My parents always wanted a girl and they got her when they got me. Essentially, growing up I had 4 fathers. My brothers were protective, yet rough on me. I learned to change my oil, change a tire, shoot a gun and take a fish off the hook. But I was still considered the baby of the family, my oldest brother had this idea that I was spoiled rotten and life was easier on me than it was on him. Jay, my middle brother was a peacekeeper and Ted was my fierce protector (although he did beat me up a lot when I was little).

There were times when family get-togethers turned into yelling matches, major competitions and demoralizing outcomes to the losers. I found myself as a teenager and young adult to be in this twilight zone with my family.  I had this idealistic view of family. I thought the perfect family was one that sat around the fireplace and sang songs and accepted each other unconditionally. I felt at times that I had the total opposite of that idealistic family. I am much more liberal than my biological family. I don’t usually talk politics with them, I typically don’t share many of my personal word views with them. I always felt different from my biological family. Ted used to tell me I was adopted, and I always felt in my heart that I was, because I never fit in.

This feeling of non-acceptance by family was not something they intentionally did. I was always the one to avoid conflict, so therefore, I kept my mouth shut to avoid confrontation. Now granted, there were times that I couldn’t keep quiet, but for the most part I didn’t say much. I began to distance myself from my family. I love my family, but sometimes it was hard to sit in silence. I also believed that I didn’t have a role in the family. My brothers all had roles; I was the baby. I was told I was spoiled; I took and never gave back (my perception of my role based on how I felt).

So, as you all are sitting back and reading this (especially my family, YIKES) and thinking…wow, ok what does this have to do with grief??  Grief, loss, terminal diagnosis, chronic illness is a game changer when it comes to family dynamics. I have professionally sat at the family table with hundreds of families and have watched two things happen, either the family is destroyed, or the family comes together. When mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, our family came together. Suddenly we became united in a common cause, which was our parents and their wellbeing. I loved watching this family unit work together in a way that I had not seen before. Each of us children took on a role that complimented each other. Instead of competing against each other, we were working together. Now granted, there were times that we hit a rough patch or two, but overall, we worked well together.  I believed, based on the way our parents raised us, I suspected the ability to work together was there all along.

Before grief, when our family would get together, I was excited, but a distant feeling of dread lingered. But after facing grief, I feel different. I saw how as a family we came together. Maybe despite my own insecurities of not feeling a part of my family, through grief I found acceptance. My family and I now share a common denominator and she’s called grief. Grief made us look at our differences in a new way and they don’t look so different anymore. The differences in my head changed into support, and I recognized that it was there all along. As I drove north this past weekend, I couldn’t wait to see my family (granted COVID coop-up did help with wanting to see a new view). I couldn’t wait to share in the camaraderie of loss. And for us, loss looks like shared memories, laughter, tears and the best part, seeing my mother’s expression in the new baby’s eyes.