Lili and her baby are moving out of our house and into their own apartment. The move has already begun. It’s very strange how quiet the house feels while Lili is away. Her baby is a quiet baby, but there is a strange echoing emptiness to my home right now. Having Lili here has been healing. She has been a sister and friend and co-mama and basically Maria from The Sound of Music when you consider how much joyful singing has happened with her here.
Lili in a puppy pile with her son and my daughters.
While our families do need their own spaces, it is going to hurt having Lili gone. If there were a way to keep her and her son, I believe we would. Having an even-keeled adult around the house to parent alongside while my husband is at work has been a treasure.
There’s more, though. Lili has brought healing into this home. Right now I am struggling with the status of my relationship with my parents, specifically my father, whose religious beliefs prevent him from considering my family’s lifestyle valid. His faith comforts him. I see that. But there is so much it takes away. Like family.
My heart was a kettlebell not long ago when I learned my father is not speaking to me or mine. I sent him a “happy birthday” message and my mother read it to him. I got a one word response: thanks. I didn’t scratch my head over the lack of “love you, too” for long. My parents’ love has always been conditional, and my mom reached out to let me know I do not meet the requirements so I shouldn’t expect any responses.
This may seem harsh, but I can understand in a way. Because in the course of conversation with my mother, she repeated her personal convictions to the point I don’t feel safe to have her talking to me. Those who witnessed my emotional response to an actually positive conversation recommended I block whoever I was talking to. It took me 24 hours to work through my feelings and let my mother know that I really can’t have an open relationship with her. In order to protect the love we share, I will need distance until my parents’ reactivity to my family being different from what they imagined or believe is “permitted by God” to resolve.
This has left me lonely. My heart is heavy and aches. But I turn around and there is Lili with a hug or an ear or a song. Thank goodness.
Thank goodness she was made homeless.
Thank goodness we could take her in.
Thank goodness she chose to stay with us.
It’s strange how such horrible events can have equally positive impact. I don’t mean the above to make light of her situation. I say it because it has worked out for her, too, in matters of healing the heart. We have all become better for this time together.
I am deeply grateful for the families we create. I learn this more and more. Even as some members of my biological family stay connected to me, others draw away. But my group of dear ones locally is so strong that I do not feel afraid as I used to of the day that has finally come: the day I was the one on the outs with my dad.
Yes, I am incredibly sad right now, but I am equally joyful. Life is rich with reward when we know how to look for it.