I decided last week that my emotional health was in jeopardy and that I needed to do something to turn the tide. My grief and despair over the death of Fran was deep and was growing everyday. I needed to do something different and I had to do it quickly.
I decided to go to see my family in Alabama.
Those of you who know me, may have heard bits and pieces about my Birmingham family. My mother is from there and several of her siblings (and their children, grand-children, etc.) still live there. We try to have a reunion every two-three years just to get together and see one another. Catch up on everyone's lives, so to speak. My family is LARGE. Very, very large. There were 16 siblings, and all but one had children. Two uncles and one aunt have passed, along with my grandparents... but for the rest of us, we try to make an effort to see each other (or some part of the family tree anyway) every so often.
I had not personally been to Alabama since our reunion there in 2003. And when I thought about it, I had not been to the last reunion either. I was overdue... and with all that I've been through and all that I'm looking to go through... it was time.
I'd detail the trip but, let's just say it was worth it. Family is family. Whether we agree or not, like one another or would rather stay gone... family is family. I saw relatives I had not seen in many years -- like 10-15-20 years in some cases. We reminisced about stupid things we did as children. We discussed what we were doing with our lives as adults. And eventually, at a smaller gathering... we discussed my breast cancer.
It was the last night I was in town and it was a small gathering of "the grands" at the home of one of my cousins. (that's a tradition of its own, anyway) And we discussed breast cancer, the treatment, our personal responsibility to check our breasts and so on. It wasn't a difficult conversation -- this was my family -- and for once I could talk about it and not cry.
I did talk about my cancer with one of my aunties a few days prior and I was close to tears then. But by Sunday night, I was feeling stronger about this journey and it didn't bother me to talk about it. I love my family... all of them. Even the crazy ones (I'll let them figure out which ones those are).
One of my aunties died from breast cancer. And I have thought about her everyday since my diagnosis. I looked around at all of the women in my family this past weekend and prayed. The statistical numbers say that 1 in 8 women will have breast cancer in their lifetime. My aunt Vinnie-Lee was 1, and I am 2. I am praying that those two lives will serve as a protective balm over the remaining women in the family.
Family is family. The love of family can truly soothe what ails you. Now, no one in my family is trained in oncology medicine and none of them can help me with my breast cancer treatments... but they helped me a lot by treating me just the same way they always have. Loving on me and cracking jokes.
I hope I left them with a good memory of me.
