I’ve been surrounded by a lot of family recently – family that is not my own. I sat surveying a Fathers Day breakfast I helped prepare for my friend’s dad during a trip to Polokwane. I was struck (not for the first time that week) how much I missed my own family.
There is a difference this time – a realization that I’m ready, ready to sit down and talk and work with them to chart a new path forward. When I say I’m ready, not in the sense that I can just pick up the phone or head on to my former house… not that ready. I mean I am ready to start the process of reconciliation.
The problem with realising this is that the real work begins, which terrifies me. How do you aggregate years of pain, anger, remorse and hope into a a conversation? How do you ensure that if and when things move forward, it is on new terms that are agreeable to both? How do I ensure I say the things I need to say – which will be hard – when at times, I wouldn’t mind just a wordless hug?
The time of year is appropriate – the winter solstice (Yule) was this week, which marks a time for darkness to give over to light. The sun climbs just a bit higher, the day lasts a little bit longer. It is a time of rebirth, introspection and planning for the future.
I’m giving myself a month to figure this out, I’m ready.