Family

Ever since I was a child I felt that a part of me was missing. I didn’t know what was missing, but I knew that I was incomplete. Today I think a lot about family and how the concept is defined by society. When you picture a family you get an image of a mom, a dad and maybe some siblings, but I sometimes ask myself, what is family? In my journey to adulthood I have been through many emotional experiences but only one has given me new meaning and has changed how I perceive family.
When we were just little girls my sister and I would compare our physical differences. We looked and still look nothing alike and no one could ever tell we were sisters. I asked myself, “Why are we so different?” I grew up in a loving and nurturing home. I seemed to have everything. I had a mom, dad and sister, but something was missing. My relationship with my family was wonderful and still is. I have an amazingly large family but most of it was in Puerto Rico. I lived the first thirteen years of my life in the States and later on I would go home to my dear island, the place that would change everything about me and would shape who I have become.
When I was growing up the people I spent most of my time with were my sister and cousin. He was the one who brought the curiosity of the search for the truth. One day my cousin asked me the same question I asked myself, “Why are you so different?” For years the thought of looking nothing like my sister tortured me. We dressed the same and basically did everything the same but we were still different. I was afraid to ask, but why was I afraid to ask. I guess I feared the truth. Maybe somehow I already knew the truth.
When I got home to my island I went through a lot of tough changes, but no matter what, I was determined on learning about my family. I would seize every opportunity to talk to my great aunts and grand parents. I would ask about our family and its members. I would look through old photo albums and boxes, but the person that I looked like most was my mother and I hardly looked like her at all. Eventually I gave up I accepted that I was different, maybe its not important, but it was.
One night before going to bed, my mother came into my room and told me, you are old enough to know the truth. My mother told me that my father wasn’t my biological father. That hurt me like a blade cutting through my heart. I held back my tears, I didn’t want her to know I was hurt but I was. She told me about my other family and it hurt to know that she had lied to me all of my life. Why would a mother do something like this to her child? I didn’t understand then, but as the years pass you learn and mature and see life differently and I know she wanted me to be happy. My mother didn’t want me to think about someone who would never love me as a daughter, a person that would never be there for me, help me when I am in need and I thank her for that now.
I have learned about the meaning of family. A family is not a stereotyped idealization, it is a group of people, or maybe a person that helps you, loves you, cares for you and is always there for you for better or for worse. My family had kept a great secret from me but they did what they thought best and I appreciate them for that. They helped me realize that the only father I have is the one that raised me, the one that went to my school plays and talent shows and helped me when I was in need. Families aren’t perfect but they help us to find our place in this world and help us feel that we belong. As for me I found the truth and that was all that I was missing and now once and for all I am complete.