My Family

My family life is rather like the brain of an epileptic whose affliction has been treated with split-brain therapy... the two hemispheres have been irreparably severed, cutting off communication between the two halves.

(Though tangential to the actual topic at hand, here's an interesting tidbit from my linguistics class that's relevant to the above metaphor. Because language is processed in the left hemisphere and the brain's hemispheres control the opposite side of the body, a split-brain person can look at an object with his or her left eye and know what the object is, but cannot speak its name because the impulses from the left eye, processed in the right hemisphere, cannot travel to the language centre in the left hemisphere for articulation. Please feel free to correct me if I'm mistaken here.)

My parents ("Mum" and "Pops") divorced when I was 3 years old and sparred in court over questions of visitation and child support off-and-on until I was 19. Raised by the maternal side of my family, I recently reconnected with Pops and his side of my family after more than two decades away from them. (I have adult cousins whom I never previously knew because they were born during my absence.) I first considered reconnecting with my paternals in 1998 at a friend's wedding. The bride's step-mother had been estranged from her father for many years, had reconnected with him some years earlier, and heartily encouraged me to do likewise, saying that the effort would be well worth it. A couple of years later, a friend's parents were visiting from the Midwest for the first time in many years; they knew Mum and Pops when they were still married -- knew them first-hand as individual people, not as caricatures drawn in one's mind from others' recollections. They told me that I should follow my gut instinct regarding contacting Pops; if I felt that I wanted to, then I should go for it.

I've spent the last three or so years becoming reacquainted with Pops, my paternal grandmother ("Granny"), my step-mom, my aunts and uncles, and my cousins. The verdict? I have fallen completely in love with all of them. They are invariably intelligent, open, kind-hearted, and wear their hearts on their sleeves. They love me and one another, value their friendships with one another, and relish spending time with one another. None has asked why I was absent for so long, cast any blame for my absense, questioned why I didn't return to the fold sooner, or put forth any sentiment other than that they are all invariably glad and thankful that I have come back into their lives and allowed them into mine. Granny flatters me, saying that God has answered one of her greatest prayers.

In the early stages of our renewed contact, Pops let me know that he was already aware that I was gay (having heard through the grapevine) and that he accepted that. Being who I am and thinking as I do, I introduced my husband at the time to my family and made certain that there would be a place for him in the family along-side of me. None ever made a snide remark, cast a side-ways glance (I apologise now for over-using that apt phrase.), or even raised an eye-brow at his physical presence at family functions or his implied presence by my mention of him in normal conversation. In fact, I felt that they treated him and his role in my life with the same gravity, deference, and respect as they treated their other in-laws.

A popular saying reckons that you can choose your friends, but not your family. I had the rare opportunity to do just that, after a fashion, and am very glad that I chose to reconnect. I extend my eternal gratitude to Jeff, my ex-husband, and Jeannie, my step-mom, for giving me the courage to make that choice and guide me along the path. :J