Family.

Yesterday, I attended a visitation of an extended family member.

He was young — 24. While I had never met him, we’re in frequent contact with his grandfather and we all wanted to go and show our support.

TC, Brother and I were all dumbfounded that we were the only family members who showed from the paternal side. To clarify, this means: no father, no aunts or uncles, or grandparents, nor cousins — no one.

We were and still are stunned.

I keep wondering, what could be so big of a family rift that keeps you from going to your own son — or grandchild’s visitation? I mean, the visitation is the family, afterall.

It made me feel so much more … normal about our family and thankful that, despite differences, I think it’s pretty safe to say that we support each other and would never have to second guess one of us showing up for a death.

It just doesn’t seem worth it to me — to let hurt feelings and bruised egos get in the way when you have a life that was lost. I’m trying not to judge the situation too in depth, as I don’t yet have all the facts, but I can still be shocked about it.

As I sat there and caught sight of a slide show of baby pictures, I couldn’t help but cry. See that as now being my child. I want to try to get that thought out of my head, but I can’t. And I know it is pointless to even think about it.

I guess it was just more that I can fully understand, as a mother and a parent, how heart breaking that is and if only there is something more to do than offer love and support in difficult times?

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