Hangover

It is nice and cool in the house, with the fans pushing out the hot outside air. It is 81 Fahrenheit  and quite sunny, and will be for the next four days. The Fourth of July 's firework noise lingers in my brain, as I am listening to the Algerian- French singer Rachid Taha, looking forward to a call from my friend in Morocco next week. We went to graduate school together in Austin, Texas and talk on the phone once or twice a year. My husband and son are out driving together, and I am thinking back on the gathering at our neighbor of 24 years house for the Fourth of July weekend. They have been married 40 years, raised 4 children and have 12 grandchildren. I was raised in a large extended family, with lots of aunts, uncles , cousins, with grandparents on both sides of the family, and it remains stressful and difficult to do without a larger family clan. I have no immediate family left, and only have contact with less than a handful of relatives and friends in Belgium. There is very little contact with my in- laws, and both my husband and son are friendly but solitary creatures. Maybe that is why listening to world music, like Rachid Taha, makes me feel less alone, because it connects me to a larger family through music, the human family. I do not speak Arabic, but have felt a real emotional connection to the music and feeling of North African culture. Irish music has a similar albeit it not so strong effect on me. I had always wanted to be a photo journalist, writing stories as I traveled the world over. I did quite a bit of traveling before I married at 29, and I am grateful for those experiences and memories. Holidays are always bitter-sweet to me, whether it be the fourth of July or New Year's. At one time, both my parents, my two sisters, my brother and I were all living in the US. My father spent a fortune sending all four of us through private college in this country, TCU, in Fort Worth, Texas. He spent a fortune paying for my youngest sister's medical bills when she was battling her bi -polar illness, before she committed suicide at age 35. Then my parents' marriage turned toxic, and my father succumbed to Alzheimer's illness and died a lonely, tragic death. My mother died at 74 of complications of kidney and liver failure, after a long history of alcohol abuse, and my other sister died of cancer at age 44, leaving an 8 yr. old daughter, and 6 yr.old son who returned to live in Belgium with her husband. My brother and I became estranged. I have a family, and I am grateful, my husband of 27 years and my 21 yr. old son. And as we celebrated a cozy, quiet Fourth of July together, I realized I am happy, because I understand after enormous loss, that family is everything and that you need to value , respect and love them, small or large as that family unit may be. We cannot have large family gatherings, that are loud and make you proud and happy to be part of a large, healthy clan , but I am part of a family, and a very wise man once said : " Where two or more are gathered in my name, meaning to me, love and understanding, there I will be in their midst ", which I understand to be that love is present divinely when people are gathered in kindness and good purpose. It is not easy to accept all the loss, but it is getting easier all the time to be grateful, as I watch my husband and son laughing  together, as we cook and eat together, learn and love together. Home is where the heart is, and my heart was broken, but it is mending nicely as another day draws to a close in our cozy modest home, and I say a prayer of gratitude as I watch the stars sparkle over our flower strewn backyard, and I smile as I walk back inside my home where it is safe and warm.