Holding It Together
Welcome! Thank you to the new subscribers for my monthly (somewhat) RUMINATIONS blog, where I touch on, oh, just about anything. I hope something will resonate! I’ll also be providing updates as my publishing journey moves forward, as well as providing book excerpts and offering giveaways.
A few weeks ago I received a warm email from my father’s wife, Anni (my stepmother!) who is now a widow. When I last saw her we were both tear-stained and drained after a beautiful funeral. We said good-bye after the service and I wondered what our relationship would be moving forward. Anni made it clear at the funeral that I was part of the family. My father was the binding force between us; she accepted and cared for me because he did. But it didn’t start that way.
Anni’s kind and loving email made me think about the bonds we have in our lives, how they are formed and how they affect us both consciously and subconsciously. Anni is a fit and healthy woman in her eighties: kind, calm, and with a practical outlook on all things. When I rang my father’s doorbell to introduce myself on that fateful day, she was not at home. I can only imagine her world turning upside down when he told her who had paid him a visit that day! The first few times I was around her I sensed a sadness; her acceptance of a strained situation: the unexpected appearance of an accidental child from a period of time many Germans still wish to forget.
Although she knew of my existence, the rest of the family did not. After I was born, my angry mother had forbidden any contact with my father. At the age of six I was adopted and left the country. My father began dating Anni a few years after my birth. Neither one expected to see me again. So I was “swept under the rug.” Their son Michael reiterated to me (angrily) several times that he should have been told; the family was very close and this should have been known. He eventually softened towards me. He also forgave his father. I believe Anni caught the brunt of his anger. It took several visits before she seemed relaxed, before I saw her smile. It was a long journey we all made the best of; to get over a trauma from a long time ago so that we could move forward in our relationships with each other. The book tells this story.
As the seed for this writing implanted itself, I pondered on the different bonds we form during our lives. I went to my fallback: researching and understanding different meanings of the word—our English language is rife with multiple meanings for the same word. So a bond can be a COVENANT, or binding agreement; it can also be something that binds or restrains, as in FETTER; or a uniting or binding force as in TIE.
TO HOLD TOGETHER is probably the best definition and needs no clarification. It’s the type of bond that comes out of challenges and involves overcoming negative hurdles to create a strength that is not easily broken. My father suffered because my mother wanted him out of our lives. When I “met” him on that fateful day in June of 2016, all the bad memories and feelings of my birth and childhood came flooding back into him. How difficult this must have been. Many discussions we had in the ensuing years took us on difficult emotional journeys that we had to cut short, only to regroup and tackle again. I believe we were able to turn the anger, sadness, loneliness, and stigma into acceptance by taking away the power of these negative feelings. Anni remained in the background, giving us the time and space we needed to heal. Her respect and consideration for her beloved husband was greater than her discomfort of my presence.
I want to think that Anni and I formed our own bond. Yes, loving Walter was part of it. But we learned to love each other through understanding that circumstances could not be changed. And, slowly, I became a part of Anni’s family. Her email was “from the heart” and she hopes to “see me soon.” She’s made it clear that I’m welcome at any time. What a lucky man my father was. And lucky me that he found, and bonded with, this lovely person. I can’t have my father back (oh, how I miss him) but I have those memories of the love and acceptance offered to someone who was, quite literally, unknown. A bond of love.
The more I research, the more I realize how crucial bonding is to our well-being, beginning with our mothers and expanding into the rest of our family, then friends, lovers, and life partners. Lack of, or broken, bonds in childhood, lead to a lack of connection which is so crucial to our sense of well-being. We are not designed to go through life solo. Our relationships offer a sense of belonging, acceptance, safety, security and most importantly, meaning. Our connections enable us to process negative emotions; to heal when needed. They give us a sense of worth. And when we feel grounded and loved, we can give back to others.
