The planned family day out derailed spectacularly before we got out the door. Suddenly I was caught in the middle of a verbal crossfire between my mum and my brother. The slanging match included vital topics such as the dangers posed by door knobs and the global norms of kitchen cleanliness…
There were words said that fell hard, that edged a bit too close to something which might not be forgiven.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was all so ridiculous but so very painful to watch my already diminished family cracking and breaking further apart.
We are each looking for strength and comfort but it’s all to easy to end up slinging mud instead. We need each to be so much that what we are cannot quite bear the weight.
We don’t know how to talk. We say so much and yet somehow communicate nothing.
Dad’s death has not perfected us. If anything it has just made us broken and muddled in different ways than before. We have new roles we don’t know quite how to play, spaces and silences we don’t know quite how to fill.
His death has shown us how precious family is but there are many days when we don’t know how to live that, how to hold on to the things that are good.
I’ve spent my day fighting desperately not to be pulled down into the murk. Keeping a grip on serenity and unconditional love is tricky when you feel like walking out or throwing something.
I am trying to live what I’m learning but relationships take two or in this case three and I feel like I’m testing out a new template all on my own. Finding the how to of making things work, making something a little better is the tricky bit – answers on a postcard please!