Reunions are heavy loads when someone is missing.

Every couple years, as is the tradition of many families, our extended family on my Mom's side has a Family Reunion. People come from all over (including other countries some years!) to gather and catch up. I believe strongly in the tradition and love them. This year was different.

Family reunions are always so tricky. Let's start with the basic facts - My mom was the oldest of 5 children. She was the only one to ever move out of the state of Idaho. She married in the fall of 1961 and moved away immediately. In 1966 her first child was born and they welcomed another baby in 1969. Following her husbands career, she lived in Utah, California, Texas, Montana and Oregon. In 1987, I was born in Oregon to my Mom's daughter. Can you see where things begin to get strange? Of my 18 formative years, I remember living with my biological mother for about 4 of them total (not consecutively either).

Because we lived in another state, I think few people understood that my Mom was different than whom they believed. To further complicate the matter, my biological mother remarried and had two more children who lived with her. For the majority of my childhood, I did not live in the same home as my siblings. This puzzles our extended family.

What is the point of bringing up old news? Family reunions are a serious loss trigger for me I have learned. Especially when my Mom died in December and the biological mother was in attendance of said family reunion.

The map on the wall of our family line.... Of how the generations break down. Of where I "fit".... I could have torn the thing off the wall and lit it on fire. I wanted to scream and rage and cry and sob. MY mother was dead, why in the hell was I listed under someone who wasn't my mother? That "daughter" they had listed for my mom never once helped me plan Mom's funeral. Never once helped me as I sat hours in the ICU waiting to know the fate of my Mom. That "daughter" of hers, whom I was born, is neither mother nor daughter. And what of the adopted children from another cousin? Why do their children belong under their adopted parents and yet I am stuck with that horrified place of no one understanding? I felt so traumatized staring at that chart. Even my husband, who probably understands me more than anyone, might as well have slapped me when he said "why are you changing the chart, why does it matter to you?"

At that point, I shut off. I had to self protect. MY mom is sitting in a box in my fucking living room. MY mom DIED. Did everyone miss the fact that I spent two weeks and countless hours in the hospital making every decision for her? Did people miss that I signed papers for hospice? Did yall sleep through those hours when I planned the funeral flowers and cake and who was speaking? Did anyone notice that I had to write an obituary for the first time in my life at 26? I surely didn't miss any of that!

How do we qualify who counts as a Mom? Because I sure as shit know that the person who helped me through chicken pox, who taught me how to make jam and the woman who listened as I was terrified that I would fail at motherhood wasn't in attendance of this years family reunion. At 70 years old, she died. She'll never meet her youngest grandchild. She'll never see another kids art piece or be on the other end of the phone when I'm having a complete shit day.

I'm headed through the stages of grief again. I'm fully aware of the trigger and dealing with it. I feel the heavy weight of sadness and bone-deep exhaustion that comes from intense emotional processing. I'm reminded that I can do hard things. I can and will find the amazing legacy of strength my mom encouraged me to find. Even in the end, she knew I could be strong for the both of us.

This was the crappiest family reunion of my life and I technically had more fun than any other I can remember. My kids were happy, my husband was with me the whole day, I saw people I genuinely enjoy and had fun dancing the night away with my happy kids.... and yet, I am acutely aware of someone missing.

Reunions are awesome - people get to brag about their kids, talk about their accomplishments, genuinely listen to each others successes and as I listened to one of my uncles be so incredibly proud of their grandkids, I realized that no grandparent would feel that kind of pride for my kids with the same closeness. My children have one grandparent left and I seriously doubt she's moving to Idaho anytime in this lifetime. I'm clueless on how to connect that gap when budgets scream that breathing air is expensive, who the hell can afford vacations? This last link matters. I should try harder to connect the generations. Perhaps tomorrow.

Blah. I'm sad. It's manifesting as angry because being angry is easier than feeling sad, it's my comfort zone.. It's less vulnerable that this hole of sadness. I'm working on it.

Someday I hope to leave a legacy of love and resilience too. 

I can do hard things. Today will sunset into tomorrow and tomorrow is always potential.