There are no words, but I’ll try. I had no blood family except for our kids, and now I have held my brother in an embrace, I have looked into his eyes and seen our mother, our grandmother, our grandfather. My brother’s wife has become my sister. There was a party and their friends came and celebrated my coming into the family. And through all of this I have felt the gentle hands of my birth mother on my shoulders, touching, reassuring, asking me to believe that the love has always been there. And I do believe it, completely.
Nearly twenty years ago I created a series of rituals, assisted by my mate, and did a pretty good job of integrating the fractured shards of my selves. The first one involved empathizing with my pregnant mother, alternately voicing her fright and anger at having her young life hijacked and voicing my right to exist. I did a good job of imagining what might have been her feelings of desperation, anger, and grief.
A few years ago, a wise friend suggested I imagine a different scenario, one in which I was loved and cherished, and in which our separation was the best gift she could give me. Now I have found the evidence of that, and I have been surrounded by an embrace of epic proportions. Healing is afoot.
Now there’s a new challenge. We have come together in a super-collider wham, and have had two days in the bliss of New Relationship Energy, and then I got on a very bumpy flight back to San Francisco. We are still raw-skinned. There are still multiple layers of history to be unearthed. And the most important thing is how to continue weaving.
I have seen these wonderful people, and I trust that we will create the best path. And I have seen myself in a new light, someone who is valued and welcomed and celebrated by people other than my mate and his beloved mother. I look forward to walking this new path.