Recently, I found myself reflecting on the nature of family support after a close friend suffered a sudden loss. Her father passed away unexpectedly, and I rushed to be by her side. Despite the heartbreaking situation, she was surrounded by a large, caring family that rallied together to support her during this difficult time.
As I waited to pay my respects, I was struck by a slideshow of cherished family memories playing in the background. Having known my friend and her family for nearly three decades, I’ve always admired how they consistently show up for one another. Whether it was attending her college events or celebrating birthdays with elaborate dinners, their commitment to each other has always been evident. When my friend plans a gathering, her mom is right there, helping out and ensuring everything runs smoothly—the same goes for her siblings.
This family dynamic has always drawn me in; I often wished I could be a part of it. While I try not to be envious, standing in that line surrounded by love and warmth was a painful reminder of what I lack.
My own father lives just a short distance away, is youthful and active, yet he has never once reached out to see if I need support—even during my divorce. In fact, he hasn’t visited my home in two years since my ex moved out. I’ve learned not to ask him for help because he consistently makes excuses, living by the mantra, “I just can’t make it.”
My mother, though she lives farther away, offers slightly more assistance, but it comes with strings attached. She often reminds me of her sacrifices, and I’ve overheard her expressing frustration about helping my siblings. The emotional toll is too high for me to seek her support, so I’ve chosen to manage on my own.
Why is it so hard for families to simply be there for one another?
I can only imagine how different life would be if I could easily call my parents for help. Date nights would be feasible, and tough days could be eased by family simply being present.
This recent experience has been a wake-up call. Just because my parents don’t exhibit that “showing up” mentality doesn’t mean I can’t create that environment for my own family. I have the power to change the narrative. I have children who know I will always prioritize them, and I aim to foster that sense of security as they grow. I’ll be there for their important moments, provide support when they struggle, and show up without expecting anything in return because that’s what family is about.
Perhaps my upbringing was a lesson in how I never want to be. It has made me resilient for reasons that may still be unfolding. I refuse to feel sorry for myself. At this point in my life, I realize my parents aren’t going to change, but I can give my kids the unwavering support I craved. They deserve a mother who is always present.
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In summary, while my family may not embody the supportive spirit I admire, I have the opportunity to break that cycle and create a nurturing environment for my children. I can be the parent who shows up, today and always.