While we often don't realize it our lives are affected, and sometimes even determined, by external factors. Like who are ancestors were, what kinds of society they lived in, what possibilities and limitations they experienced. These factors are as salient as our personal choices.
Today is the anniversary of my father's death (12/11/22). When he died, not only did an individual pass away but the last link to my childhood-family was also severed. Premature losses of my mother and brother thirty years ago were traumatic but my father's continued presence represented something essential. "We" still existed. I wasn't alone (yet). Now I am.
My nuclear family, created in a newly nuclear age, was enviable. Our resources were manifestly meager but our familial bond was rich. For different reasons my mother and father wanted and clung to the very idea of family. Both of them grew up in a chaotic time (World War II); both felt insecure to the bone. Seeking survival and stability my mother designed a structure for the four of us. (It included, not incidentally, some extended relatives.) Everyone was required to adhere to her plan regardless of personal preference. As they say on Star Trek: Next Generation, "resistance [was] futile."
So when I mourn my father, I also consider the larger context in which he played a role. A close-knit family that supported all of us, as disparate and flawed as each of us were. I now see and appreciate what my mother fabricated out of thin air: a coterie of loving support. Without it I would have perished.
Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Richard.
Ally, The way you've weaved together personal loss with the larger forces that shaped your family is deeply moving. Your reflection makes it really clear how much of who we are is carried to us through history, circumstance, and the fierce intentions of those who came before us.
ReplyDeleteThe idea that your father’s death marked not only his passing but the end of a living “we” is especially poignant. It speaks to how family can be less about structure and more about presence, about knowing you are held in something larger than yourself.
Your mother’s determination to fabricate stability out of chaos feels both exacting and profoundly loving. What you describe isn’t just control, but a survival strategy born of fear, devotion, and hope. That it worked, imperfectly, humanly, but decisively, is a testament to both of your parents.
This is a beautiful honouring of your parents and your brother, and of the fragile, deliberate architecture of family.
Lotte x
Thanks, Lotte. I'm pleased you understand my writing so well.
DeleteThank you for sharing this beautiful tribute to your Mom, Dad, and Richard. They clearly left you with a foundation of deep, enduring love.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Melody.
DeleteThe love you hold for your family is so rich. Their memories live in you, and because of that you'll never be truly alone. You keep them alive for the family you've made for yourself.
ReplyDeleteI think this time of year does shake up the feelings of being a child in the family sense, even when you're the adult/older person. I think my brother and I are overdue for a dig through my memory box of photos and mementos. We skipped it last year. Thank you for the inspiration and for sharing your feelings and memories of your incredible family.
You're right -- the holidays do remind us of childhood and our familis.
DeleteAw, sending you good vibes on this somber anniversary. I reflect every year on my own father's death (9/22/1997), and I never take what I have, family-wise, for granted. Every day is a gift. My mother-in-law might not know us next year; my own mom could die without warning (although I hope she will go another 10 years!), and you never know when life will just kick you in the gut.
ReplyDeleteBig hugs, honey.
Exactly, Sheila. We never know -- so we should remain conscious and appreciative of our loved ones every day. Thanks for sharing your personal story.
DeleteSuch a beautiful, reflective and well-written post, Ally!
ReplyDeleteMy parents both passed away in August, albeit 15 years apart, so that's always a bittersweet month for me.
When my Dad passed away, it felt like the end of an era. xxx
Yup, it does. Thank you, friend.
DeleteThis is beautiful but bittersweet. They are so precious. I'm grateful that my childhood was largely happy. It wasn't easy, money was tight, we were aware of our difficulties, had to work hard but we had so much opportunity for joy and fulfilment!
ReplyDeleteI'm happy to hear that. Most people have to endure tough circumstances but it's possible to find joy in them with the right attitude. Thanks for sharing, pal.
DeleteVery touching words! I always enjoy reading your posts.
ReplyDeleteThanks.
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