One of nine, my mother’s childhood was anything but conventional. Speaking with her offered me a reminder of what that was like: the unfinished cereal and milk being poured back into the jug for tomorrow, her father’s invitations to her brothers to put on the boxing gloves and settle their sibling differences in the basement and the constant state of chaos at home.
They were a very tight-knit bunch. They had to be. Privacy was an unattainable luxury in a house constantly packed full of more family members and dogs than you can count. That is, without even getting into whichever one of her brother’s friends was calling the house home for the time being.
Tough love is the best way to describe her family’s dynamic. They would do anything for each other, though a healthy dose of ribbing would likely accompany any help.
“We were not necessarily a touchy-feely group,” she said. “We all just kind of understood how we felt about each other.”
The strength of her family was put to the test in 1975 when her brother Matt passed away. Perhaps selfishly, I will always be annoyed that I never got to meet him. You would not blame me for feeling this way if you heard how he is talked about.
“Matt was a really incredible person,” she said. “He was engaging and cared deeply about everyone. People gravitated towards him. He was the best of all of us.”
Tragic as it was, this loss brought her family even closer together. It was a reminder that life is fleeting and meant to be lived in the present. ‘Enjoy the now’ became an unspoken mantra the group adopted.
The reverberations of my Uncle Matt’s passing are felt today by my siblings and I. The harsh lessons my mom was forced to learn by losing a brother shaped the way we were raised years later.
We were always encouraged to try new things, with new experiences for us kids prioritized over my parents’ interests.
“We raised you three to expose you to as many things as possible,” she said. “We never wanted you to feel scared to go out of the house and try things. That was something that was very important to us.”
Our ambitions and ideas were never considered unrealistic, no matter how outlandish. I am back in graduate school for the second time, my brother is in the middle of chiropractic school and my sister will soon be starting nursing school. Most parents would not entertain this, but mine did, as they believe life is meant to be lived and passions are meant to be chased.
This approach to life has been passed down to me. Though I was never lucky enough to meet him, my worldview can be traced directly back to my Uncle Matt and his impact on my mother and her family. Much like my mother, I strive to live in the moment, a value I hope to pass on to my own family someday.
During our conversation, my mother shared a poem my Uncle Mark wrote after Matt passed. Funnily enough, the ending line he borrowed from The Wizard of Oz captures Matt’s impact on my mother and, subsequently, myself best: “A heart is not judged by how much it loves, but by how much it is loved by others.”
This sentiment perfectly encapsulates my mother’s family and, now, my family. It might not be shown by grandiose displays of affection, but the love shared between us is unmistakable and best measured by the unwavering loyalty and support we afford each other.
