This is, as the caption says, my original family at some date in some other time. My folks have died since, and the rest of us have aged and grown a little thicker. The siblings from left to right are oldest to youngest. I am second from the right. I miss my original family more than I admit even to myself. With all of their quirks, flaws, and uniqueness we have a bond of a world view which was created within our little sphere of suburban hood. We didn’t belong. None of us belonged to the culture of our peers, and as we each attempted to navigate the hoops and obstacle course and ordinary rituals of childhood, we knew we different.
Like our Dad, we read. Philosophy, poetry, comic books, forbidden texts, erotica, and pulp fiction. Like our Mom, we painted, sewed, used ceramics, loved nature, and created new things out of everyday objects we admired. We were gifted with a sardonic wit that my parents didn’t have and were often the object of such twisted thoughts and looks between us. We wrote and hid our thoughts between the pages of journals and and our rooms were banned to anyone else. In retrospect the house was small, but we each carved out a space which was most precious to us. Our privacy.
I miss them. They are far away in distance or in mind. I am on this day visited with a sadness so great I need them more than usual. I need to be in this picture with them, hoping they’ll hold me up for the next six months; as they once did in our little warped and twisted universe. It felt comfortable. It was home.
My fiancé Frank is going through medical treatment for a rare and frightening disease. I have had more than my share of medical scares, but to see my love go through it is heart-breaking. I want to take his burden upon myself because I have beat the odds so many times before. It’s not that I doubt his strength, fortitude, or optimism to overcome it. He will. I just do not want him to be alone with it. He is going inpatient on Monday and we will be apart for the first time in three years. I can’t be there every day. He’ll tell me it’s not that hard on him, but I’ll know the truth.
He’s being strong for me, and I want him to be strong for himself.