Should Have Would Have Coud Have
This is going to be about my family. My dad’s family in particular.
They came into town a week ago for my brother’s graduation. My dad, my stepmom, and my two sisters. My brother Dur Dur and I stayed with them for 3 days.
There was not much of note in activities. We went to the aquarium, the graduation and to stone summit. My youngest sister Sienna was enthralled with us. Gianna was shy but was intrigued as well. My dad was my dad. My stepmom was my stepmom.
The main points come into play when I was alone in the car with Dur Dur. I asked him how he thought our visit was going, how he felt. He responded with indifference. He stated that he honestly felt no attachment to these people he was supposed to call his family. Even went as far as to say that he’s doesn’t think he can love father figures.
Of course I wanted to argue with him! Those were his sisters. His father. He should love them. He should miss them.
Isn’t that the catch? He should. Because they are flesh and blood. We’re supposed to love these strangers we see for one week every two years. We should love and adore them more than those we see daily. We should, because they are family. Well, we should. But we don’t do we?
Geez. Once I realized to the degree this reunion was failing all mental hell broke loose. Friends would have laughed at how forced the familial bonding was those first two days. An established family dynamic attempting to adjust to these two strangers, these two adults that are supposed to fit into their Suburbia perfect family photo. It just doesn’t work. You can’t slap the label of FAMILY onto individuals and expect it magic together a Hispanic version of Family House.
I began to be woeful to what we could have had. What we should have been able to have had. If my dad hadn’t have left. If they had visited more. If my parents could have gotten over themselves enough to get along. Hell, if my dad wouldn’t have been so messed up and abusive in the first place.
The shoulds began to come back.
I should be angry, right? I should become upset with him once more. He was one of the larger reasons I have issues today. Clique Daddy issues. He told my brother and I “ there wasn’t anything here for him anymore.” We weren’t enough to keep him around. No wonder I can’t become close to people. If I’m not enough for my damn Dad, what hope do I have for the rest of the world? Yes. I should be angry. I forgave him when I found Jesus. I found forgiveness. But no. I should still blame him, right? I have that right. I really should.
The third day came around. I got some good advice that slapped me awake a little bit. “Stop being bitter about what isn’t there and pay attention to what is.”
That day, we all went and climbed as a family. My dad tried to play dad and looked at my car. He apologized for not being able to help us financially. I got to see all of them giggle and struggle as I played belay bunny. I got to see them tackle the wall and cheer each other on. I got to watch my brother playing with my sisters like he’d been there the entire way. That advice called me out. The world told me how a family is supposed to act. The world told me how I should react to my situation. Labels and expectations were in the way of what was right in front of me. I was missing out on what I had for what I was told I should have. What if I lived my entire life in such a way? I think that would be the greatest tragedy of all.
No more shoulds or could haves or would haves. What do I have now? Not just with them. But with everyone. With everything. I would hate to look back and finally see what I had when it is already too late. No more labels or preconceived notions. I am blessed, so very blessed. I need to see it with more clarity and grace. I need to be more grateful. No more shoulds. No more.
