Where I Came From

When I was in my first psychology class back at LBCC, the only thing I can recall is when my professor talked about how family members are more willing to like, forgive, need, and stay interested in family that looks like them. I find this to be insulting and wrong, but I have heard it over and over again in courses since. But I wonder, would I like my sister so much if she didn't look just like me? Of course!!!!!

I started to wonder about who I am a combination of. I dissected my personality and dissected my physical features in hopes to find that I was an equal combination of both my mom and dad. When I started pulling at things, I discovered that I don't reflect a combination of them, rather a combination of those around me. This is exactly when I found out that my calling in therapy would be in family systems! Either way, I got to know those family members that held portions of my very being in order to understand myself more clearly. What I found was hard and ugly but okay and settling.

I have my mom's face. I see her when I smile, I see her in my eyes, and in my hair. I will have her chest and I have her knack for always wanting more; more people, more food, and more fun!

I have my dad's hands. I sweat like him and I have the same brow lines. I have his anger and quick response. I have his adventurous spirit and his need for drama.

I have my Annie's judgement. I have her patience and ability to be alone. I have her cheek bones and we have the same nose (or used to!) I have her passion for school and her love of travel and literature.

I have grandpa's nose and I have his cheek bones. We both tuck our thumbs into our fists when our hands are completely relaxed and don't

know why. I remind him of my mom and he calls me Lori more than Taylor. I love it.

My grammy and I have the same guilt trip capabilities. I have her love for flowers and art. We have the same matter-of-fact demeanor. We share the need to tell the ones we love that we love them dearly, all the time.

Here is where I am stuck, I don't know what features of my other grandparents make up parts of me. I don't know them well enough anymore, and sadly, I forget what it was like before the great divide. I feel like I am missing parts of me. That parts of who I am are unidentifiable. Here is what brought be back today...

Grandpa called me. He's in AZ on his own and telling me exuberantly about what he fills his days with. He asks me about the Seahawks and tells me to call him after the Sunday game so we can "talk about their offense." He tells me about how he is eating only Top Ramen but tomorrow he is going to the grocery sore because it's Senior Day and he get 10% off. He tells me that he's cleaning the house and is a better house wife than I'll ever be (I agree!). He tells

me about how much he loves his enchiladas with "gummy cheese Taylor, that the key!" and to get extra sauce on the side. (He loves sauces just like the rest of us) He tells me about how he wishes I were there to share the heat and ample amount of garlic. He tells me that Dave better marry me soon, but he understands that I'm some "hippy that doesn't need marriage." He tells me that things are "fine" between him and grandma. That she's gone, but its because she is sending time with Ron, but again, "we're fine, TJ." Then he tells me he loves me 4 times and that he'll call me on Sunday.

I can't imagine anything happening to Grandpa. I wish so much that I was there with him, playing cards, eating too much garlic and Mexican food, and walking everywhere. Life with him would be glorious as he is more fun than most people I know. What I don't understand, is why he is alone? It breaks my heart, because I think he knows, that I know very well what is going on.