It’s funny how time changes things.

I know it’s been awhile since I’ve sat down, and poured my heart out onto the screen. I’m not sure when the urgency to race home and write about everything stopped…but I like to think it’s still there; just dormant as of late. Out of sheer curiosity, I found myself wondering what was happening at this time last year, as documented per zee blog. You know what they say about curiosity.

It killed the cat.

Well, I’m not dead, but I could have gone without reading this delicious little gem of a memory. Actually, I take that back. Reading that entry, and seeing just how far I’ve come from that day I walked away from M, to being strong enough to stand up despite everything I’ve been through,  is absolutely amazing to me. I can’t even believe everything that’s managed to take place over this past year. It has definitely been a year of growth- both personally and professionally.  But you know what? We’ll save this diatribe and walk down memory for an upcoming post closer to my birthday. (GASP! I’ll be 26 SOOON. In LESS THAN A MONTH. GASP.)

Ahem. Where was I. This old age thing is really doing wonders for my already wandering train of thought.

I went home this weekend, as my half sister visited us in PA for the first time 18 years. That’s a looong time. She also brought my adorable little nephew with her, and I got to meet the most precious chubby 10 month year old for the first time ever. Unfortunately, her hubby wasn’t able to make it, but we had a wonderful time just the same.

The last time I saw my half-sister was 4 years ago at her wedding; since then, we’ve kept in touch through emails, phone calls, all that good stuff. I’ve mentioned before that our relationship has blossomed as we’ve gotten older, and for that I’m truly thankful.

This past weekend solidified that thought.

I have written many times about the ups and downs of my own personal father-daughter relationship. My half sister has gone through a very similar situation, although somewhere along the way, she really did say “f*ck it”, and went about her own life. I admire her for being so strong, and we chatted about that journey this past weekend. It was surreal, at times..looking at my father with teary eyes as he watched his two daughters cook dinner, and chide him about anything and everything. If there’s one thing my sister and I have in common, we both don’t back down easy…but I must say, in some respect, I saw a new side of my father.

I saw my father as a scared, and lost little boy. He was so nervous when we drove to the airport to pick up my sister. I mean, a complete and total bundle of nerves. He was literally a stressball. Taking one for the team (that’d be the woman’s team, comprised of mi madre, and my sister and me), I was the one that drove down with my father sitting shotgun to the airport. LET ME TELL YOU HOW WONDERFUL OF A DAUGHTER I  AM.

I endured TWO HOURS of jazz stations on XM radio. Now, I love me some jazz, and hell, I even played in a jazz band back in the day…but TWO HOURS complete with the story of Louis Armstrong and narrated talk radio program? All the while driving in a MONSOON?! (No, really. It was the worst weather of the rain precipitation variety that I have ever driven in.) And I did it all with a smile. I even talked for two hours straight with daddy dearest. But all that aside, on our drive home? I tried to smooth over the awkwardness. I made conversation, bridging the gaps, and laughs; and I will admit, my father was quite the sport when my sister and I tag teamed him, getting after him for various reasons (in a good way.)

What stands out most about this weekend? A passing moment in the airport drive home.

In a split second of where my father bent his head down and laughed to himself, to where I glanced in the rear view mirror and shared a knowing look with my sister.

Everything just sort of came together.

It’s been a long road, and while it’s nowhere near to being done with construction, I was happy for the pause in speed bumps. This weekend if nothing else made me realize that while no relationship is perfect, we all try to do and be the best we can…and that old saying was at the front of my mind:

“Just because someone doesn’t love you the way you want them to, doesn’t mean they don’t love you with all they have.”

It’s a matter of meeting in the middle of those two realms of thought, I suppose.

I learned a lot about myself this weekend, as well as my family. I had heart to hearts with my father, and came to the conclusion that while we are opposites in some ways, we are so very much alike in others. I like that I can joke around with him. I like that he has a different view from my mother on some issues, and I like that we challenge each other with every minute we’re around each other.

I also had some great conversations with my sister; for the first time in a long time, I felt like we truly bonded. Playing with my nephew, talking about our daddy issues, reminiscing about the past, and talking about life choices (of the career and relationship variety) made me realize we are also a stark contrast of each other in some ways….but in others? Well, it’s very clear that we are related.

I’ve come away from this weekend with a lighter disposition that I thought I would.

Granted, the talks with my mother, and snuggles/sleepover sesh I had with Teddybear* also helped…but this time? It’s something more, I’m so desperately grasping to hold on to.

It’s the realization that family is family, and while we have our ups and our downs…we’re still there for each other. After all the screaming, fighting, loving, and laughing, one thing remains.

We bring out the best in each other, and the worst in each other.

Somewhere along the way, we manage to learn about ourselves from what we’ve been, where we are, and where we’re ultimately going.

What makes it worth it?

The knowing glances exchanged in a mirror; the compassion of understanding that life’s hardest moments can be lightened with someone by your side; and ultimately, the type of love that can be pulled apart, beaten down, broken into pieces, and stretched to the limits…

The unconditional love you find within your family. No matter how complementary or dysfunctional it may be.

(*=To be covered in a later post. I know it’s the boy stories that keeeep bringin y’all baack.)