You're Just Like Your Father

If I had a quarter for every time over the years have I heard this come out of my mother's mouth, I would be able to ride the muni around San Francisco for at least a year. My mother doesn't say this to be derogatory. She loved my father unconditionally, but they were very different as far as their philosophies when it came to things like money, life ambitions, and looking out for one's physical well-being, ie, getting enough rest, making sure to put on sunscreen before going out in the sun, etc. I will admit that it has been hard for me to feel a connection with my Dad's side of the family. We would visit more frequently when I was little. I would say at least once a month on a Sunday, we would pack up for the day and head north up through San Francisco. Down 19th avenue, across the Golden Gate Bridge for what seemed like forever. Perhaps the 49er game was on the radio as we made our way to Marin County. We referred to my dad's parents as Nana and Abe. I'm not quite sure where the origin of this began, but that was how as a child, I could differentiate between my mother's parents and father's parents. My Nana has a lovely home up in the foothills above San Rafael. A peaceful setting with single level entry, and a large sunken backyard, I always felt like my sisters and I were too loud and brash for such a quiet setting. Like we were wild hooligans who had disrupted a refined ladies luncheon. My Nana is a woman of proper manners and good taste. Someone who loves things based in natural ingredients and elements. A trip to her house would typically consist of healthy snacks and conversation, some sort of physical activity culminating in a visit with one of her local friends (maybe a priest or fellow church goer), and perhaps a nice meal at a nice restaurant. As a child these visits weren't exactly something I usually looked forward to. I felt awkward going because at the time I didn't know how to connect with them, and I tended to get bored very easily. Looking back on it now, I feel really bad for the amount of grief I gave my dad over going to visit his family. When my dad started getting sick, and was no longer able to "round up the troops" for visits to San Rafael, trips to visit that side of the family became very few and far between. After he passed away in 2006, the visits got even more infrequent. Making an effort to keep in touch proved to too difficult as I was making the transition from teenager, to college student, to post-grad, and now finally full blown adulthood. Last week we got word that my Nana had taken two fairly serious falls at home and isn't doing well. My aunt has been living with and taking care of her for quite some time with occasional help from my Uncle who lives out of state. They are both amazing people who I would like to know better. Yesterday was a most excellent visit with them at my Nana's home. I went with my sisters and we spent the day talking about our family. I got a chance to see some pictures and hear stories. I observed faces and hands, body movements, voice inflections, and speech patterns. I want to know more. I need to understand from where I came. While it's sad but true that I will not be able to talk to my dad about his family, I still have the family to talk to about them....and my dad. So much of who I am came from him, so it's very interesting to learn about him from them. I AM just like my father, and like my mother, and my sisters, and my aunts and uncles. I'm also like me. I want to be able to share all of that with my own family some day. The pieces of the puzzle are beginning to come together. I can see the formation of a picture that still has many pieces yet to be determined, and I'm ok with that.