I told her that her random weeping phone calls and endless letters were upsetting and disruptive. I asked her to show me that she understood me by letting me go, by not contacting me, not even to respond to the letter. I told her that I didn't know if I would ever contact her again, and not to count on it. That was five years ago. I haven't heard from her since.
Families are complicated, messy and primal.
It takes years for children to fully embrace and understand all of the secret beauty and ugliness in their kin. The texture and rhythm of each family are so distinct that no matter how close or divided the family becomes over time, that primordial beat thumps through every sacred moment of a life. That thump is sweetness and bliss for me, and it consumes every need and every urge I have. My parents and I are so tightly bound to each other that I can't breathe without feeling their love within me. Perhaps I am too selfish, too self-absorbed or too afraid to add another family to my life.