Family, Not Always Perfect

I honestly believe that I was placed into the arms of my father, so I could take care of him. I do. I believe this. 
The man who I base my writing on isn’t even part of my lineage. I don’t know my biological father other than his name and what state he lives in. I love his brother, my Uncle, like a father. If my blood father is anything at all like his brother, who has also been a constant in my life, then I’ve been missing out. My Uncle makes you “want to skip”. That’s a quote from my friend Tasha, who also said that meeting Uncle Richard was life changing.
 My biological paternal grandmother and I are spitting images of each other. She’s been a part of my life through every detail. She’s told me no a million times and yes a million times. She’s made me appreciate antiques, love my green eyes and has shown me what being a lady means. Her spaghetti and cornbread is dreamy. Her homes have always smelled like eucalyptus. 
I plan on reaching out to my biological father someday. The clock is ticking though, I must do this soon. I guess I could go stand at his PO Box and wait for him to retrieve his mail. He’d recognize me. I know we met once. I was 9. I think. His father who I called Poppy had me for the weekend. He was a retired county jailer. That’s important to know because I walked into their mansion like home and found everything bashed to pieces. Even the T.V. I remember finding out that his wife had done it out of pure pissed (offness) with his police baton, so yea… That’s my memory of meeting my father. It’s not his fault though. 
I’ve had a biological father, an adoptive father and two step-fathers. Mother’s current husband was my ex step-father and now he’s back to being my step- father. Figure that out.
My Bipolar father has been married to my mother and two other women. Six marriages in my life as a ‘kid’. I’m surprised I’m not more of a complete disaster, but somehow they all managed to raise a pretty grounded person. 
I’ve had a constant set of three grandparents and others that came and went like marriages do at times. 
Between them all, all of the step-fathers, step-mothers, Aunts, Uncles and whoever is whoever… They all did what they could. They lived. They laughed. They cried. They argued and had heartaches. Through it all, each and everyone of those souls taught me lessons and some are still standing. Still doing. I’m dysfunctional in a dysfunctional world. No shame here. I’m loved. 
It takes a village. 

5 thoughts on “Family, Not Always Perfect

    • Thank you for those words. I love each and every one of you as well. I have a had a horrible day. Most of today has been spent screaming, crying and becoming so enraged that I couldn’t see. Perhaps someday I will look back on today as a new beginning. My eyes are open to those that mean harm and my heart is comforted by those that mean love.


  1. All I can think of to say is what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. I see that in you. Mom was married 4 times and has been alone now for years. I vowed to hold my family together and never ever divorce and well that didn’t work out. But I am stronger and a survivor. I haven’t seen Steve in 35 years myself. But he does live across from my papaw and when my Nanaw passed he brought him some bbq.


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