Of Family and Forgiveness

There is much to be grateful for, each and every day,  and, at the risk of posting a clichéd recitation of things I am thankful for at this time of year, I would like to share something that has filled every corner of my heart with thanksgiving.

This year, and particularly this past month, I have had the opportunity to watch my family come together in a way that I never thought was possible.  My parents divorced about twelve years ago, when I was eighteen, and the fallout was spectacular.  It was devastating and it ripped my family apart.   Without getting into the tedious details, the last 12 years has been rife with drama, from all sides.  My parents, siblings, and I have only all been in the same room together once in those 12 years, and while all parties were civil, if not cordial, it wasn’t necessarily warm and fuzzy.

Fast-forward to October 24, 2010,  almost 12 years to the day from when my parents divorced, and there we all were. Together.  Having Sunday dinner around the kitchen table in my childhood home.  My mom.  My dad.  My sisters.  My brothers.  My nephews.  My sister-in-law.  My brother-in-law.   As if nothing had ever happened.   It was a moment that seemed to exist outside of time for me.  I was (and am still) overwhelmed; it was MY FAMILY!

I’m not naive enough to think that all the hurt and pain has magically been erased, but I do know that we have finally come to a place where we can be a cohesive family unit once again, and begin to heal. Words cannot adequately describe the feeling and beauty of having my family feel whole once again.


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