The Glue of Family - Marilyn Newbury

I love my family.

My husband’s zany sense of humour, honed in the crucible of pain, has helped us through many rough patches.

So when we get together, we laugh, at least some of the time.

On good days, we fit together like peanut butter and jam.

Other times, we mix like oil and water,

or annoy each other like the incessant dripping of a tap,

or clash like chalk grating on a chalkboard.

We enjoy – or tolerate – being together, depending on the topic at hand, be it politics, faith, organized religion, or the planning of a family event.

I love my children but at times they drive me crazy.

Likewise, I suspect that they prefer small doses of hang out time with Mom. I, the oldest of the lot, who should have the most wisdom, have not yet figured out how to breathe unequivocal acceptance to my family. I so easily default to evaluating by flawed and unattainable performance standards.

But we won’t get unstuck.

We are glued together by DNA, memories, legacy,

and identities intertwined with our family connections.

If possible, we continue to get together for weddings, funerals, showers, birthdays, anniversaries, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, special occasions, family outings, and birth celebrations.

Sometimes the memories of these gatherings are memorable.

But even if laced with tension, we plan again for the next event, hoping and believing that we will all understand one another better and learn to appreciate each other in new ways.

**Rafting Trip in Kananaskis with Michael as our guide – Family with cousin Tim and Freya in utero (missing Ajax)**

My husband and I are increasingly aware that strong family ties will be even more paramount in the future, possibly sooner than we would hope. The day will arrive when we are removed from our parental hierarchal roles to the rank of sires in our family kingdom, dependent on the care of our children.

But for now, while still of relatively sound mind, I revel in my family’s presence, in spite of the idiosyncarasies.

Even as marriage fracture looms on the horizon, my husband and I hang on to the fragile threads connecting us with this fragile family community, hoping for stronger bonds in the future.

I am blessed to be married…

the years are becoming less tumultuous as time passes.

I am so proud of my children…

for their creativity, spouse choices, innovation, unique perspectives, parenting, and even their quirkiness, which they inherited, of course, from their father.