The Tie That Binds

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I guess technically I've just made it through my first holiday, although Easter isn't one of those "big ones" that I know I'll face later. This afternoon my parents and I met Roger's family at Trattoria Lisina in Driftwood... long drive, well worth it. :) I indulged in a little lobster risotto, a nice chianti, and an overly rich coupling of cinnamon and hazelnut gelato.

 

I've wondered the last couple of months what would happen to those relationships as time goes by. I suppose there are some that would disagree, but I've always felt that I married into a family, not just the man. And I've always felt very lucky that the stars aligned in such a way that the family I legally joined is amazing.

While we were planning the memorial, there was a driving force that intertwined our lives during those two weeks, and as we all found ourselves breathing a sigh of... not relief, not completion... maybe a sigh of exhaustion when it was all over, one of my first thoughts was, "Aside from our trip to Ireland, will I see these people again?"
      
 I remember meeting Roger's family for the first time. It was actually his sister and niece that I met on this occasion. We had come back from a date, and the two of them were still up. His niece was 2 or 3 at the time. She was very intrigued by my red, faux-crocodile purse, and while the adults engaged in small talk, the niece raided my belongings. It turned out that she had recently acquired a children's book called My Granny's Purse that also had exciting things to excavate.
      
His parents reminded me so much of my own: teacher mom, beer-drinking dad... okay, that's simplifying their comparative qualities, but isn't the root of our existence truly a combination of the profession that calls us and our beverage of choice? ;)

I got to know his family really well on the first family vacation I took with them. We ventured to Concan to brave the wilds of the Frio River, which sounds ridiculous until the story morphs into the true story of a 20 minute tube ride turning into a 4-5 hour tubing disaster, the likes of which included taking the wrong branch of the river, no sunscreen, a rain and electrical storm, hiking with the tubes up a slick, muddy embankment to the very camp site in Deliverance, and asking the crazy hillbillies within to drive us back to our own cabin via the back of their truck. It became a fairly miserable afternoon that climaxed with one of my worst sunburns ever and the realization that I was so lucky to be joining this group of people in my marriage.

What happens to that history? What becomes of the stories we've written together on holidays and vacations, over glasses of wine and games of Scrabble, through the deaths and marriages of relatives? Where do we go from here when the original tie that bound us together is gone?

As we ate lunch today, I played photographer with my fancy toy. I'm still learning, but I think I got some great shots. There was obviously a missing chair from our table (and our table was noticeably quieter than the last time we at the trattoria when I constantly had to remind Roger that his voice carries like crazy), but what there wasn't was an awkwardness of not belonging. I love those guys like my own family because whether they like it or not, they are family, and not even death can dissolve the tie that binds.