I recently told my aunt that I never felt a part of their family, even though I lived with them for three years (when I was 15) and consider them to be the folks who finished raising me. I don’t think it surprised her, but it made me pause for a minute to think back on my personal growth over the years – and mainly, my willingness to fit into their lives and visa versa. The moment I finally felt like I was thought of as one of their children was when my aunt was very sick in the hospital, in 2007.  Not only did my cousin (their oldest daughter) contact me about the issues and keep me informed, but my uncle called me, too. He’s never called me since I left their state when I was 19, that I can remember – Ever.
And to me, that was extremely sad. He was my mother’s brother – he was not only closest to her in age, if any of her siblings were really close to her, he was the one. Yet, it’s always been my aunt (his wife) who has been the one to keep in contact with me over the years. I needed that connection to my mother, and he was/is unable to provide it.
After my aunt got out of the hospital and was on the mend, we took a long weekend and drove up to Nebraska to see them. While sitting on the porch with my uncle, he asked me why we would make such a long trek for such a short visit. My answer was simple then, we were all worried about Grandma L (they ARE my children’s grandparents, and do a wonderful job at that role) and I wanted to make sure my kids got as much Grandma and Grandpa time as was possible, because there is love there, and my kids need to see that, feel that and hear that.  As little of my extended family as we allow the kids to be around, Grandma and Grandpa are good ones that we would give unlimited access to, if we were closer in miles to them.
My cousin, Robin, calls me her sister. She was nine when I moved in with them, and although she has a younger sister (who came along a few months after I moved to their house), Robin and I basically grew up together – even though it was for just a few short years. Of course, I’m a nut and think of her as my cousin, but that doesn’t mean anything BAD in my book, because I have siblings and my relationship with them is much less close than with Rob.Â
After living in Utah for seven years, I think I’ll change my way to relate to Robin and call her my sister-cousin. hehe
Anyway, Robin and I really grew together when she was pregnant with her first child, Madison. Miss Maddie was born a year after our youngest daughter was, so I was in the throws of nursing and diapers when Rob needed to hear an “all knowing” voice to help her through her pregnancy and new motherhood time. It was special to me, that she looked to me for assistance during that time.
And I consider her children to be my nieces and nephew.Â
Which leads me to this letter we received in the mail earlier this week — addressed to “The Harrison Cousins”:
Ain’t love GRAND! And FAMILY, too! I’ve done everything I can to not tear up over the all-encompassing HUG that this little girl has shown my kids. And me. But, I just can’t help it — I *finally* feel like I’m a part of a family!
