Elaine Miller
I should have said this years ago, but here it is on the occasion of my 32nd birthday
A Note to My Family, on my Birthday.
Thirty-two suddenly seems like a nice round number, and a good time to say thank you.
I really didn't figure it out until I got out into the big wide world on my own--didn't start understanding until I heard others talking, reminiscing about ther childhoods. It took years of this interaction with people my age to let me understand fully that I was the strange one, not they. And last week it hit me, really burst into my mind in an explosive flash of understanding. I get it now, I really do.
If I want you to see where I'm coming from, I need to begin at the beginning -- or rather the beginning of this chapter in my life.
You see, I have always known how much I am loved by my family. I know my mum loves me, I know my dad loves me, I know my sister loves me. And I know I love them right back. It's a faith that I live with every day, like my belief that the sun will rise every morning. I carry this knowledge with me, and people see it, and respond to it somehow.. and so I have many friends who also love me. And I never doubt them. I never doubt anyone's good regard, because I grew up every day knowing I was well-loved and cared-for.
In school, I would hear stories of someone whose father threw them down stairs, whose mother ignored them, and whose siblings stabbed them with forks to make them cry. I was flabbergasted, and completely unable, in thse tender years, to imagine what any of that would be like.
The older I got, the nastier people's stories got. And while I held some friend as they cried, I would still wonder -- how can this have happened? How can a parent, a relative, be so cruel? You see, I had no backing in cruelty, no steeping in hatred, no background of neglect.
Because I had all of you.
When I figured out that I was queer, and brought my first girlfriend home to see you, some of my friends asked "Aren't you afraid?"
I didn't understand.
"Afraid of what?" I asked.
They never had a good answer.
But now I understand. I understand what they were afraid of, and what I owe you, Mum and Dad, and Fiona. I know exactly, to the Nth degree, how lucky I was -- and how lucky I am to have you, and not any other family, in my life.
Just after midnight on Good Friday, Aiden's mom passed away, surrounded by her family. Aiden held her hand and whispered to her as she went: "It'll be OK. It's OK if you need to go, to leave us. We love you."
I arrived at the hospital about 20 minutes later, held her as she cried, and cried with her.
That's not the part that made me understand. I knew she loved her mom, and so I empathized, and understood, and it made me so very sad, and so very appreciative of my own family. And I missed her mom because I liked her, and she liked me, and she knew that we're a couple, and she was puzzled, but OK about it. So I was sad that she had to die. But that's not the part that made me understand so much.
During the next few days, I drove Aiden around, helped with her errands, made her tea, and listened to her talk. The roman catholic type of funeral services take days and days. The last day was a Wednesday, and that's when they do the actual emtombment. The service was in the morning, and Aiden went afterwards to spend time with her family, in the house that her father now shares with her mom's mom: her grandmother.
And that's when her father made his move. I can't help but think he'd been waiting all this time, because Aiden's mom wouldn't have let him do it.
On the very day that Aiden saw her mother buried, he threw her out of the family, out of his life, and out of his house. He said she was no longer his daughter. He said... he said... she disgusted him. Because she's gay. Because she's with me.
And even the death of her mother didn't flatten her like this did.
That story goes on, but this isn't the place for it. What I wanted to tell you about was that I understand now, I really get it. I understand that caring is a choice, and love is a choice, and kindness--O, especially kindness--is a choice. And you guys made the choice over and over with me as I grew up -- to be kind, to be loving, to be caring -- to be my family.
Thank you.
No other gift could ever be so precious.
I love you.
-Elaine
