Ambiguity

I'm not sure what to call this post or even how to begin, so since it probably has a title now that you're reading it, just know my thoughts weren't that cohesive in the beginning.  Certain things about my family clue you into the fact that we might be a bit unusual.  Maybe the fact that my mom has two sisters with the same first name, or that she is only five months younger than her older sister.  Yes, do the math, no, not biologically possible.  Well, not with the same biological mother anyway.  So this has been a prevalent issue literally my entire life.  Like, as long as I can remember, one of my earliest memories.  I am doing my best to frame my thoughts in a way that is diplomatic & fair to everyone I love, with no guilt implied towards anyone except maybe an allusion to the VERY guilty.  And well, while I deeply love certain people who love that person, I don't.

My aunt is sick.  Very sick.  Scary, want to hop on a plane to hold her for days sick.  When I was young, this aunt was my best non-missionary pen pal ever (let's face it, missionaries are much more desperate for mail than pretty girls).  When she visited, we all got French braids.  We always shared our boy drama, though she did much better at choosing hers early on & obviously I'm still looking.  But the reality is that I don't have the same relationship with her that I do with my other aunts, for many reasons.  Not that we love each other less, because that wouldn't be true, but the ties you're supposed to get to have, for the most part we didn't.  The older I get & the more I treasure being an aunt (which if you know me at ALL is my favorite job in the whole freaking world), the more it guts me that our options to be close were so limited.  It.  Is.  Not.  Fair.

Let me be very clear: on all sides of my family, I have amazing aunts.  My paternal grandma's sisters come to baby showers & bridal showers.  By marriage, biology, & adoption, my aunts are the best, bar none.  I can't regret the choices made by others which cost me some experiences but gave me such a multitude of others.  But there are times when I feel such deep anger & resentment to have lost so much.  I know.  I couldn't possibly have had both.  I understand that.  I'm mortal, so I'm allowed to be angered by a loss while being grateful for the gains brought about as a result of that loss.  Right?

In all my studies in communication, family dynamics, & all that other jazz, one of the most profound and pointed concepts I have ever learned came from a nonsensical little television show.  Trust me, nothing else of depth ever came out of "Pretty Little Liars".  I've found many definitions, but for once they're all pretty accurately summed up by wikipedia:

1. "Ambiguous loss is a loss that occurs without closure or understanding. This kind of loss leaves a person searching for answers, and thus complicates and delays the process of grieving, and often results in unresolved grief."

I won't out my family members, adopted or biological, by going into depth about what I mean by this concept.  I've spoken with some family members, & the issue of someone who should care not caring doesn't affect them.  I'd love to be that removed, to not care if people who, by their & my very existence, should care more than anyone.  I'm not so fortunate to be someone for whom people can be replaced.  I have people I love more than anything, who for all their amazing love & support, cannot replace those who chose never to be there.  I wish I were one of those people who didn't care.  I've tried.  I am more proud than most people might think reasonable to finally say that most days, I feel pity & not hate.  Truly, for me, a HUGE deal.  So I'll give myself props.

It's just not right.  Family should be simple.  Everyone loves each other.  Everyone supports each other.  No one is perfect, but no one would ever dream of deliberately wounding anyone else.  And yet, what a hypocrite am I that I so easily & without question pull others into my definition of family?  But really, is that hypocritical?  To be willing to do my best (sometimes that's better than others, I'll readily admit it) to be the best definition possible of daughter, sister, aunt, niece, cousin to my family, & wish that certain others felt the same desire?  And yet, the one attempt I remember still boils my blood & makes me physically ill.  Why can't things be simple?  I don't understand.  And I hate it.  And it's not fair.  & I'm really tired of it hurting...