During Christmas last year, Brendon’s Meemaw and Peepaw came to visit us in Florida. Their upcoming trip caused me immense anxiety. It had been two years since I last attended a family holiday.
Caught in the throes of grief following the sudden death of my father just months earlier, I was unprepared to put on a good front or exchange passive-aggressive niceties. To my surprise, the visit was exceptionally pleasant.
They truly embodied their adorable titles as picturesque grandparents. They bought all of our groceries and spoiled my daughter. His Meemaw even insisted on doing our dishes their entire trip and refused to take no for an answer. This was more triggering than if my expectations had been met.
My entire life, I had been conditioned to fear my grandmother. I had watched her pass presents out to every child but me on more than one Christmas. To experience the love of a grandmother who owed me none made me feel undeserving. This trip also brought up the latent grief I carried for the family I never had.
After Christmas, I spent the next six months processing these feelings through therapy to prepare for our second vacation to California. By the time we landed in San Diego, I felt both prepared and excited.
Rather than shying away from the familial closeness out of fear, I was ready to embrace it. My healing was evident to myself and everyone around me.
Askar Abayev | Pexels
Brendon’s family dynamic is nearly identical to that of the characters in Modern Family, the popular ABC sitcom that ran from 2009 to 2020. He always said that, but I assumed he was over-exaggerating. It was during this trip that I learned close families didn’t only exist on TV.
The entire vacation was planned by Brendon’s Grandpa to celebrate his Uncle D.’s 50th birthday. He bought round-trip tickets for everyone who lived outside of California. Grandpa even made an itinerary of daily activities — all of which he funded.
We stayed with Brendon’s mother. She forfeited her bed to us while she slept on the couch. We never had to ask because, to her, that was a given.
Each morning, we woke up to a house full of loved ones. After grabbing a cup of coffee and a quick breakfast, we would all sit on the back patio and chat or play cards. Family and friends would trickle in to join us. Uncle D. typically opened the shared gate and would wander over periodically to chat.
By high noon, all of the cousins and a few of the neighborhood kids had made their way into the pool. Card games and Washers tournaments were in full effect among the adults. As the sun set, we would transition to one of the many planned activities full of food and laughter.
