Family. Such a loaded and complicated word. So much is wrapped up in this two-syllable (or three if you enunciate it fully) word.
When you’re an adopted person, this word has even more implications and nuances. We are told that we are lucky because our family “chose” us. Or, as in my case, I feel privileged to have a family that I call mine.
Still, the subtle subtexts of my relationship with and to this family are shadowed in the reality of my having created a very full life away from them. One of my main explanations is that I never quite felt that I fit in to the family, or the USA, so that becoming an expat felt natural – why not actually be a foreigner when you already feel like one?
Yet, I remember many years ago one of my cousins said to me in a strange moment, “When you make it big, don’t forget your family.” First, who knew that I was going to make it BIG? Second, why would I forget my family? Now, those words have a touch of foreshadowing in them. I haven’t made it “big” per se, but in the words of that very same cousin this past week, I have made a good life for myself.
This is true.
Also, I have not forgotten my family.
I only have two uncles — one on each side of my parents. One is an in-law and the other, my father’s brother. Both have always treated me as family with great kindness, attention, and I believe, love. A few weeks ago now, one of them left us behind on our walk through this life. Everyone around him feels his loss, especially his brother – my father.
Both of my parents hold my heart together, in different ways, of course. My mother keeps my heart strong and practical. My father keeps it firm yet fragile. So, when he cried in his grief my heart cracked while her strength kept it from breaking.
With this sight on the other side of my screen, I determined that I needed to go home and see the family.
That side of the family is complicated, messy, and fractured in the most dysfunctional of ways. I mean, really, whose family isn’t when you peel away the layers? Yet, I always have made an effort to see my aunts and uncle when I visit home in Oregon. My cousins and I have kept a thin thread going over the years, but I think it is safe to say that we all sort of believed our parents and siblings were still long with us. In essence, we got complacent taking each other for granted.
Then, two members of the family passed away in a short period. Suddenly, we are faced with mortality and re-evaluating what is important.
Family.
So, during this visit, I got to see the cousins. I visited with my aunts. I also spent quality time with my parents. Time is limited on this earth, and as we do not know how much time we have left with one another, it seems silly to waste even a moment on the complications, the disagreements, the judgements. For me, once I call you family, there is nothing that can take that title away. Although I missed the deaths of my grandparents, they visited me in my dreams to say good-bye. Even still, I felt sad that I wasn’t old enough, or rather mature enough, to hold them in better esteem to have prioritized time with them and upon their passing.
Thankfully, time teaches us and we grow (sometimes).
While making a return trip to the States was not an ideal, I am so so thankful that we had the time and means to make sure I could do it. The time spent this past week with family has been more than meaningful, but impactful of the fullest kind.
So, hold on tightly to those whom you call family – whether or not they are related by blood. They may not be there tomorrow, so make the most of today.
~T 
was quiet, but ever so lovely. Plus, Santa 
was very very good to me. I mean, I was a rather good girl this year. 
More on that once we get settled in. 
, I paused. 
, cold 
, and grey 
weather that it is the trademark of the area. Also, as I find myself having lived longer outside of the US than I have in it, I even wonder at calling myself ‘American’ 
. Further than that, I am also definitely not ‘Korean’ 
other than the make up of my DNA. So, while I claim American citizenship and Korean heritage, they are not home either.
My home is where my husband is. 
My home is where my friends are. 
My home is where I have given pieces of my heart. 
is currently in Italy, but I will, hopefully, be visiting my home soon this summer to see my family and friends in Oregon. 
as I hold individuals, including myself, to a high moral standard. Also, I am a constant observer, analyst, and commentator on human behavior. Often, this comes out as harsh, arrogant, and not very empathetic or compassionate comments to those who are privy to my personal thoughts.
and intuit.
despite moments of cuteness and acceptable sauciness. 
and researcher in the development of people, I feel that I have both an academic and tangential knowledge of what young people need. The more important aspect is that I view these youth without an emotional or biased attachment that comes with having one’s own offspring. 
I never felt able to take on such a heavy responsibility as it took me years to sort myself out. So, I have zero regrets for not having my own mini-me’s, but a thousand respects for those who do. 
to see how two beings can come from the same parents and be so different. I often ponder out loud how to curb what I deem to be more worrisome characteristics in a young person so that it does not become a challenge for them or their parents later in life. Ultimately, though, everyone does their best – for the most part. Nature is a very strong feature that no matter how much nurturing is given cannot always be tamed. 
