Once I left for college, the holidays have never quite been the same. Obviously you say. Well, yes. However, it is interesting for me to note the increase in the sensitivity of my perceptions, as I grow older. The only thing we can absolutely count on in life is change. Although, often when people go home they say with a sigh of relief and often annoyance, “some things never change.” But they do. Even more so,change from being out in the world on our own. For most of us, our family is our initial influence and no matter where we go, we are enveloped by that presence.
When we leave home, we are able to gain an outside perspective. As independent adults we are exposed to issues of concern from which we may have been formally protected. Suddenly we begin to see members of our family for what they are, human beings. Human beings with faults, broken hearts, drug addictions, anxiety, eating disorders, loneliness and longing, with pasts that refuse to leave them alone. Human beings who are wonderful parents, husbands and wives, sister and brothers, adventurers, musicians, photographers, lovers; they are the backbone, the reason I am the way I am. That realization has been my favorite, and is to me the most precious. As a child I had a superficial idea of who these people traipsing around as my family were. I did not yet know the defeating complications that in turn truly illuminate qualities. Knowing a person’s faults and who they are despite them, makes them real, more accessible for exploration. I have been able to put together pieces like a puzzle, re-creating the people I thought I knew, but were really just fragments. I am repeatedly amazed at who these people are becoming to me, something more whole. It is intriguing to watch these complicated scenes of beauty come together.
Christmas Eve with the Sheehy family can feel a bit, or actually a lot, like a three-ring circus. Lots of finger foods, drinks, loud voices, bright lights, music, crowds, strange outfits, and even animals (usually marauding as little children run astray from their not so watchful parents.) There is never a lack of spectacles to look at, and the ringmaster (my father) is often just as distracted as everyone else. Therefore his fervent dedication to taming the gigantic crowd, a result of the Irish Catholic tradition of making babies, for Christmas songs is always the most entertaining part of the show. However, every year he succeeds, and Christmas Eve would not be the same without assignments being doled out for the Sheehy family’s “Patridge in a Pear Tree.”
While it is evident that the baggage of the past is carried into the future, the cycle of life continues, refreshing everyone’s insight. There are new lives, little baby faces that mirror the faces I grew up with. The faces through which I first identified myself and I still see myself reflected there. The Sheehy part of my Irish inheritance, a name I will never give up and always defend. The crazy Sheehys-the loudest voices and the biggest hearts heard reverberating off the pine tree filled mountains. Known as much for their triumphs as their mistakes. The music of my dad and his brother are my Northern California poetry. It is because of this chaos that I will always desire home.
One of the best experiences I have gotten to experience since leaving home is watching my younger brother and sister grow into adults. Now our differences make us respect one another for our unique personalities. I know it was difficult for my bro and sis to get a grasp on my craziness. Yes I still experience the confused, uncomfortable looks when I say or do bizarre things, but now I sense they realize these are my endearing qualities.
We too have become, or excuse me, are becoming adults and individuals in one another’s eyes-not just siblings. I am ecstatically looking forward to the road ahead and my many journeys “home” as we continue to develop our spirits.
The Foster family, my mother’s side, has a little lower volume. The quirks are still there though, and it has been so much fun to discover the characteristics of my aunts, uncles, and cousins.
I often wish we were closer, and got to see one another more. Every time I see my younger cousins, I am taken aback by how much they have grown-and how short I am. Again, it is that experience of watching as these children evolve into adults with personalities independent of my aunts’ and uncles’ care. Being the oldest grandchild on this side, I have fond memories of holding my younger cousins as babies, giving them baths and reading them books.
My grandma and grandpa are growing wearier under their years. My grandfather once the center of all the energy gets tired often. This is hard to accept, but I remind myself of the wonderful memories I have. Basketball games, Chinese food, discussing politics and diving off the big boat at the lake. I know it is hard on him and my grandma to accept their aging as well, but I hope they know I see them in everything I do.
Being in Austin, TX 1,800 miles from my California home in the mountains, it is important for me to still feel connected to the family and friends that nurtured me long before I was ready to head out on my own. So are the changes I witness on my various homecomings primarily within or in the people I have always depended upon for consistency? That is not even really the point to be analyzed, because it is both. “The only thing one can count on is change.” Sometimes we are too close to the source to identify changes in the familiar, once we step back we see the layers. So at this point I suppose I do not feel relief or annoyance for the things that stay the same, but acceptance. Sometimes the changes I detect scare me, but they also make me feel a closer connection to the people and places I can rely on to comfort and inspire me. I am happy to be both a participant and an observer of the continual ebb and flow.
Oh, and the dogs are fine.
