Expansion One: Family Time

While this post is intended to elaborate on one of the brief points I made in my last entry, there is something I have to say first about blogging - it's the strangest addiction I've ever had. Once I've written a post, even if it was something small, I find myself gripped by a strong desire to write again. In the face of ever-busier days and grueling nights, it's easy for me to lose sight of this urge, but if I even have enough time to click on my Google Reader and scroll over the posts of my friends and colleagues, I get the itch. Unavoidable, it feels, but I'm not complaining.

So, family. It's a beautiful thing, and something so special when you really think about it. We often induct people into the circle that we claim as family, but upon visiting my aunt this past month, I had to really wonder if those other relationships would be able to endure a decade of silence without showing any wear or tear. I'd certainly like to hope so, though I also hope I'll never have a reason to test it out. I'm glad to say that at least in the case of real family, it felt like I'd heard those familiar voices, seen their smiling faces only a day before.

There are very few things that keep me quiet in life (these days, anyway). One of them is a fear of inflicting pain. I was so young when my family started to crumble. I was too young to understand why it was happening, and too old to ask without thinking. I couldn't remember ever hearing a word of real explanation, but I could easily recall tears and frustration. So I held my tongue, even though my greatest pen pal, my aunt, hadn't written in weeks, months, years, and the last postcard we got from her trip to Japan hung gathering dust on the refridgerator, next to a picture of my two-year-old cousin's face.

In the long run, I had to hope those relics of a wonderful relationship were on display for a reason. At my ripe age of twenty-one, I also felt strongly that I didn't have to involve anyone else in my endeavors to reconnect. Of course, finding an address may have been a problem when I was ten years old, but the power of the Internet has matured just as well as I have. And thank goodness for that, at least in this situation.

A letter and an email later, I was relieved, overjoyed, heartbroken to have missed so much, anxious to learn so much more. But I was also still a little afraid of causing pain, uncertain as I picked up my phone to tell my mom the news. There were so many ways it could have gone, given my limited knowledge, but the emotional highway simply continued to speed off in the same direction I'd been paving it. Myself, my mom, my sister were all touched to see pictures of my aunt, uncle, and cousin. We were all electrified with desire to make plans, and for once I was ready to throw work out the window and get in one real week of vacation.

I did get that week, and it was probably one of the longest in my life. I can't say I really have a working memory of any other vacation that long - sad, I know. In some ways, it became a bit of a struggle towards the end to not go nuts wondering how my projects were doing. But the benefits of shutting myself off from life, cell phone service, and Internet access almost completely were immeasurable. In one week, I learned more about my family - my grandparents, my greatgrandparents, my dad - than I had in the rest of my life. I saw things that sucked me back in time in a matter of seconds, tasted things I hadn't recalled the existence of. I absorbed all the Japanese language I could, and yearned to see all the places my family had visited in their trips to Japan over the years. The only disheartening thing I took away from all of it was that no one has heard from my dad. I can't imagine living life without contact with my parents and siblings, as infrequently as I may call up my own.

Ba-chan is turning 81 on Thursday. She seems to despise anything that focuses on her, including a camera lens, so I'm hoping a simple card written in my rudimentary Japanese will be good enough. I wish I could give her the gift of a connection with her oldest son again. I don't know if I can, but I've started the process of trying. I mailed a letter to what I hope to be my dad's current mailing address. If I get a response, the mix of emotions will most likely be a bit more complicated than the last bout. If it comes back to me, I'll try a slightly different address I found. If nothing happens...well, there are bound to be complex feelings there too.