Family: Tangled Roots and Quiet Reconnections

Family. The word alone can stir up a mixed bag of feelings—warmth, grief, awkward small talk, childhood snacks you’ll never replicate, and a few ghosts (literal or otherwise). I’ve been thinking a lot about what family means to me, especially with all the love and loss I’ve experienced.

Grief did a number on my family dynamic. My mom, my dad, my son Dakota, my grandparents, my aunt, and even a brother I never got the chance to meet - gone. That kind of loss doesn’t just hollow you out - it shifts everything. It rearranges your sense of connection. It makes you cautious about growing too attached and fiercely loyal to the people you still have. Each loss felt like the slow unraveling of the threads that once held us all together.

My mom, especially. She was the glue. Coffee dates with Grandma, big family dinners, Christmas celebrations—all held together by her magic. After she passed, the glue dissolved, and everything scattered. And I? I got quieter too.

But the wild thing about family? Sometimes it shows up in the most unexpected places. Like social media. (Yes, that social media - responsible for endless doom scrolling but also, apparently, for finding long-lost siblings.) A few years ago, I met my older brother, my mom’s son, who had been adopted. Meeting him was like living in a scene from a Netflix drama. I was nervous, babbling like someone on too much caffeine, but it was exhilarating. We spent time together, shared a Christmas, and while he now lives on the other side of the country, we talk regularly. It’s a connection I didn’t know I needed.

And that’s what family is, right? It’s not just the people who share your DNA. It’s the people who show up, who remember, who reach out—even if only sometimes.

I also have nieces I haven’t met yet, but I plan to. I’ve got cousins—nine of them—and a wild number of second cousins. Nine aunts and uncles, three brothers, a nephew who checks in because I demand it (with love), and four grandchildren (three step, one bio). It’s a beautiful, tangled mess.

I see my daughter and grandbaby a lot—we video chat daily. My nephew and I share memes, videos, and quick hellos. That’s something. And sometimes, something is enough to start spinning the wheel again.

If I had to rate my family connection, I’d probably give it a 4 out of 10. And that might be me being overly optimistic—like thinking you can go to Costco for one thing and not leave with a canoe. I want to do better. Because a quick message, a short call, a silly meme… those things matter. They say, “Hey, I’m still here. I still love you.”

Even after all the loss, I’ve gained some people too. And I’m going to keep working on holding them closer, even from a distance. And let’s be honest—I could be better. I could reach out more. I could check in more often. I could even remember birthdays without relying on Facebook.

So no, my family story isn’t a Norman Rockwell painting. But it’s mine. Complicated, bittersweet, sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes hilarious—and always worth reflecting on.

So here’s to progress, not perfection. Even if your wheel’s a little off-kilter, you’re still moving. And that’s something worth celebrating.