Late

I’m up too late thinking too many thoughts.

Mostly I’m thinking about my family. I’m grieving the loss of things that could have been if we’d been born in a different universe.

Thinking of the walks down the aisle that weren’t exactly right.

Thinking of the closeness I’d love to have had with either of my biological parents. The everyday victories, the phone calls just to chat while we do dishes.

I’m also thinking about how my biological parents are aging. My dad is 64 years old, and I think my mom is 62. I used to work in a doctors office and we’d have patients the same age as my dad. It was shocking to think, “That’s how old my dad is.” Sometimes I get sad at the thought that he may die without ever knowing me. Angry at the thought that he hasn’t seemed to want to. But sad again at the thought that maybe he doesn’t feel he deserves that experience.

At the same time, I think about all my siblings and how amazing it is that we hold ourselves together. We do now in adulthood what our parents could not do for us as children. We help each other up, we walk together through the life that was splintered and bent. We help each other find guidance and joy and sometimes sit with each other in the sorrow.

And despite the fact that the odds were stacked against us: we had parents who fueled fires between us and encouraged us to fight, we hide behind the walls life taught us to build in response to loss and betrayal, we hide how we feel because we cannot be weak for others or ourselves.

Despite all this, we open the door for each other. We see the light in each other, and let it into our own lives. We are all so incredibly different may not always agree, but we are learning to love and accept beyond that.

To me, that’s pretty amazing.