new found family
The day her mother told me she loved me and would always be there for me, was the same day my own mother said I disgusted her to her very soul.
The day her mother told me she loved me and would always be there for me, was the same day my own mother said I disgusted her to her very soul.
I hope it's not weird that I felt a sense of pride because I got a standing ovation when I finished delivering her eulogy.
My sister's baby and the babies created as a result of my egg donations will all be born within a year of each other, leaving my niece with at least two same-age cousins she'll never know.
Your story finished itself before I could lend a last breath to us while your ghost faded in the real chapters made of alzheimer's, cancer, divorce, and language barrier in my family's Vietnamese-American dream.
When the psychiatrist asked me whether I suspected that my depression might be hereditary, I told him I could not say as most of my family had committed suicide some time ago.
I never knew my grandfather, and even though everyone says I look and act just like he did, it still was very strange when my now senile grandmother confused me for him.
I can no longer give a speech at my middle brother's wedding, because I am too angry that he calls himself a Christian and yet allows his friends to refer to our youngest brother as a "faggot."
My deep resentment towards your family began when you were diagnosed during my FIRST semester of nursing school, because they expected me to be an oncology expert, and when I didn't have an answer they told me I was going to be a horrible nurse.
My grandmother called me the other day asking if I wanted any weed, because the man across the hall is selling it and she thought it was an excellent deal.
My very open-minded mom looked at me as if I had three heads, but my devoutly Muslim best friend didn't bat an eye.
When my mom finally found the courage to divorce him after decades of abuse, we were all alone because our friends and entire family believed his lies instead of my bruises and her depression.
Sitting around that hospital bed sharing a Thanksgiving meal with my family, I never realized that would be the last time I would see my mom.
The day our Uncle was crushed by a forty foot machine, my mother and brother could not stop discussing how cool it would be if he came back as a zombie while looking at his body and making arrangements for it at the funeral home.
When my religious grandmother told me that she thought it was "disgusting for gays to marry," I realized that she would never come to my wedding.
After mom told me my grandmother was dead, I investigated the case to see if it was true just to figure out the person who texted her giving her the information texted the wrong number.
I listened to three hours of stories about my late father before somebody finally realized they all had me confused with my cousin.
Although cancer took my little brother ten years ago when he was a sophomore in college, his first (and only) boyfriend and I still refer to one another as "brothers-in-law."
My mother accidentally forgot my birth certificate for identification purposes and the rest of my family got on that plane to Jamaica, leaving me behind.
If it weren't for our stupid cat yowling for his breakfast, our house probably would've burned down that morning.
Not long after my mother left us, my father said he would leave if one of us didn't admit breaking the old, battered lamp in the sitting-room.
We just found my half-sister's half-brother, and my mom wants me to hook up with him.
After I told my mother I felt I needed therapy, she laughed and said "DUH!"
Even before getting completely stoned with my dad, uncle, and cousins that Thanksgiving, I knew I had the best family on earth.
I cried when I saw that my girlfriend's mum added photos of me and my girlfriend to her family album.
Shortly after telling us we needed to lose weight, my grandma was offended that we didn't want all three desserts she had prepared.
My cousin and I were two years old, playing tag around the coffee table, not understanding why all the grown-ups were crying.
After years of teasing my brother about being gay when he wasn't, we were all surprised when he came home with a steady boyfriend.
No one believes me when I tell them my boyfriend's mom broke her foot playing solitaire, even though its completely true.
On my second visit, my therapist decided she needed to draw out my family tree to prove to me that coming to therapy was a brave thing to do given the divorce, addiction, lies and avoidance that were rampant in my past.
In a crowded college dorm with four of us to a two-person room, I felt like I had a place, while in the three-story house I reluctantly call home, I know there's no room for me.
We went to the Opening Ceremonies of the Paralympic Games, watched an NHL hockey game, and threw an amazing dinner party, but the highlight of my weekend was hearing my boyfriend's teenaged daughter tell the emergency nurse that I was her stepmom.
When the doctor asked if there was a history of depression in my family, I said no, but later I realized the two alcoholics and the two suicides by gun probably counted.
This morning, my dad was doing the laundry and my stepmom was fixing the pipes.
My family always joked I started going to church because I was having sex with the pastor, but that didn't come until much later.
My brothers tears covered his face, his eyelashes sticking together, as he stomped his foot down and demanded that my mother stop choking me.
I thought he loved work more than me, but after he died I found out that my name was his work computer password.
She confessed afterwards that she had never seen a real life spit-take until she had dinner with my family.
I spent the night of my cousin's wedding on an air mattress in my auntie's living room, taking turns with my little brother puking in a pot.
"That's what you get when you have 3 brothers and 9 sister-in-laws," said my uncle.
My Mum, Dad and twin sister were killed in a plane crash, but if they hadn't been, I would never have met my brother.
We were only sixteen when he asked me to marry him and now, after two kids, a mortgage, and sixteen more blissful years together, I wish I had said yes because it was the only time he ever asked.
My sister's comment that her new computer had a 1GB harddrive confirmed my suspicions that she didn't know enough about computers to make such a purchase.
It was a sad, sad day when I discovered that my parents and I could not play a game of Clue without dissolving into a yelling match.
I would have enjoyed meeting my father's grandfather, the one who used to get drunk and dress up in his wife's clothes.
A long time ago, a Czech immigrant joined a foreign naval force, jumped ship in America, killed a man in a bar fight, was sent to a chain gang in the south, then fell in love with and was broken out by my Cherokee great-grandmother.
Tonight I washed my dead grandfather's shirts and my silky underwear in the same load of laundry.
I realized I had finally let go of the Muslim side of my family when I started eating bacon.
I only told them about my tattoo so they could identify my body if necessary.
At our grand daughter's christening, my daughter-in-law introduced me to her cousin as, "This is my husband's dad's wife".
When I went downstairs to use the internet I found my father passed out drunk in front of the computer, so I blogged over top of him.
I was watching anime with my son on his thirteenth birthday when I got the call that my brother died of electrocution at age 33.
The most prominent memory I have of my grandmother is the night she tried to kill me.
Watching my grandfather play with my little cousins, I wondered if my aunt knew that he had molested my mother and their other sister.
When I told my dad I'd misplaced my class ring, he told me his was lost 30 years ago when "a girl died in a car accident."
My sister walked in on the family crying, unaware we were about to tell her she had been diagnosed with leukemia, and jokingly said, "What, am I dying?"
As I declared her grandfatehr deceased, I couldn't help but to feel an urge to call my own.
We promised ourselves we'd wait until our fifth wedding anniversary to tell our families we met in a porn chatroom.
The three of us laughed together for nearly an hour in a conversation begun by the phrase "Dad got transferred to a mental ward!"
I watched a hideously cheesy episode of Lawrence Welk on PBS last night and loved every minute of it because it made me miss my grandfather a little less.
My uncle did more for me in one day than my father did in twenty-three years.
When I was 10-years-old, I gave my mom a note that said, "You are a bich!" and she laughed and showed me my mistake.
My uncle's secret of being a trans-sexual was revealed when the undertaker referred to him as "he/she."
My mom paused while vacuuming to tell me she's afraid my brother will kill himself, which I've known for the past seven years.
I lost most of my friends, the respect of my parents, and the desire to kill myself when I finally told everyone the truth about what I believe.
If you think it's degrading to be a trophy wife, try being a trophy child.
For some reason I found it incredibly funny when my white grandmother held my black hand and whispered to me, "You know, I was really disappointed when your brother decided to marry a black woman."
When my 8-year-old niece came home from her friend's birthday party and assured me that she did not drink any beer, I knew something was very wrong with our culture.
When I finally downloaded the contents of my 3-year-old's birthday digital camera, I found pictures of another woman kissing my husband.
My sister tells me she watched our mom cry when I came out as gay to which I reply that I watched our mom cry when she ran away, stole the car, and got mom arrested.
I was having hot and steamy sex wearing nothing but my grandma's pearls, wondering if she had ever done the same exact thing.
I just saw my uncle get arrested on a 1994 episode of Cops.
When my dad finally decided that having a gay child was better than having a dead child, we started talking again.
As a child I wrote in my journal how much I hated my mother and wished I would die, but as an adult, when she told me she had read my childhood journal, I hated myself for writing such horrible things.
I don't even live in Arkansas, but I just learned that my uncle may be my dad, and that my mother's "sister" is probably my grandmother.
My Jewish family had a lovely Christmas dinner with a Muslim family talking about art, architecture, wine, and the world and yet there is still violence in the Middle East.
It's hard lying to the parents who raised you to be an honest man, even for the sake of your little sister.
In China, they said we couldn't plays cards in the lobby, so we played with candy wrappers instead till the ones with candy still in them won.
A lesson learned is don't ever post anything on your website that you don't want your sister-in-law to steal from you and use against your brother.
We bought a house last week but we haven't told our friends or family.
The sight of my usually stoic mother weeping on the lid of her brother's casket is one I wish I could have gone a lifetime without seeing.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from the chair, still warm, as they carted your body away.
Over the last month, the cold reality of life has struck since one uncle died, another uncle had a stroke, my mother found out she has breast cancer and my grandmother is on her way to an assisted living facility.
You would think that the weirdest thing about my family is that my step grandma is younger then my mom, but in fact it the strange thing is that she is sleeping with my mom's brother.
On her deathbed, she reached for my hand despite not knowing exactly who I was and with a thin but honest smile, asked, "However did you escape?"
My parents filed for divorce on my brother's birthday but waited to tell us until mine that next week.
Even while my father was standing in the driveway, telling my family he didn't love my mother and couldn't stay, he was still my hero.
It took me getting pregnant at 18 for my family to finally realize I'm not a child anymore.
They drove frantically as she bled and lost their twins.
When the catheter tore through my mother's heart, it tore through absolutely everything.
We collectively realized she was gone when we sat down to eat our Thanksgiving dinner and realized that nobody made the gravy this year.
Dad's been dead for six years and Mom died eight months ago, but my sister who was supposed to "take care of everything" just now got around to paying for their headstone.
I love watching people's faces as they realize that when I'm talking about my parents, it's not Mom and Dad but Mom and Deb.
I used to take my grandmother's ring off my finger before I bent over the toilet after every meal out of fearing my grandmother could see me.
That shirt that says "Sisters - Emotional Tech Support" makes me sad because I've always had to outsource.
To this day I still entertain the idea that my father's death was just an awful conspiracy.
The cardboard paper camel I made my stepfather for his birthday is still hanging on the wall, left and abandoned, like us.
Having bent all of our spoons my mother finally bought an ice cream scoop.
Invariably, I take the time between her first (unanswered) phone call and the second to sober up enough to form coherent sentences.
When she told us last night she didn't realize she had just terminated any relationship she hoped to have with her grandkids someday.
When you asked how I got the poison ivy on my back, I didn't have the heart to tell you it was from rolling around in the grass with my new boyfriend.
They say that depression runs in my family, but that doesn't help me much right now.
Five years and an engagement ring later, my brother forgave his ex-best-friend for hitting on his little sister.
And that's when I decided to let my friends choose their own bridesmaid's dresses when my wedding came.
My 70-year-old grandmother jumped over a high wall to save my cousin who had stupidly locked himself in his trunk.
I didn't cry when my grandma died so I refuse to let myself cry because of anything else.
The snow fell of the roof with a heavy thud, just like my poor Uncle Martin did a few winters prior.
Tears poured down my cheeks when I heard my Dad was going to Iraq.
As I wiped the dried blood from his hands, I couldn't know that I would never see him again.
My uncle would always say, "Good night, Danny, I'll see you in the morning," and the first and only time he didn't say "I'll see you in the morning," was the night he died.
I moved away to college thinking that I wouldn't miss my family, but I really wish I could see them right now.
I fear that people would believe me to be a malingerer, and even my estranged father, upon hearing about the dilemma which my symptoms presented, commented, "I think you're allergic to work."
Tonight I had to tell my youngest son to stay in his room with the door locked because his brother was in such a rage.
I have never felt so empty and sad as I do this year at Christmas.
I knew as I walked out, you'd make sure your brother and sister were safe, but I never expected you to survive your childhood.
She told me that my uncle is really my father.
At 24, I look around my old bedroom in my parent's house and wonder how I ended up here again.
The only night he didn't say, "I'll see you tomorrow," was the night he passed away.
I should be sleeping, but I keep thinkig about all of the things I need to do, should have done, and about how I don't want to screw everything up.
My sister once caught me looking at her chest.
I was more than half asleep when I heard my father speaking, but I didn't understand he was telling me she was dead.
It was wrong when I fell in love with my sexy cousin, but it was gross when I found out she was actually my sister.
Having left behind my old life in London for a new one on the other side of the world, I soon came to realise that possesions are like old dead relatives - you miss them for a while, but soon forget what they were like to have around.