A few months ago, if you would have asked me for a definition of my family, I would have told you that it includes all people related to me. I also could have named all of those relatives without having to use any of my toes in the process. The problem I started to see with that definition, though, was semantics. Related is defined as connected or associated. So by my own definition, my family would be everyone I know. That is definitely not true.
What I really meant, I figured, was blood relation. Family is anyone related to me by blood. That made sense until I realized that on my very short list of family members, two of them were family by marriage, meaning I shared no blood with them. This was becoming slightly more complicated than I expected. Also, wasn't being family more than about who gave birth to whom? Having a family member meant being loving and helping each other through tough times. By that definition, then, were all of my friends my family members, too?
Then, my shifting thoughts of family were completely blown up by the recent (i.e. yesterday) marriage of my second cousin (by blood!), Lindsey, in New Jersey. The problem with Lindsey's wedding was that I met all of these people that my mom considered family that a) I never knew existed and b) weren't actually related to her by blood! These were my mom's maternal uncle's wife's family members. My mom spent years growing up with them. Being incredibly confused by the whole situation, I kept making the point to anyone who would listen that I wasn't actually related to any of these people. After I started talking to them more and more, though, my point changed slightly. "We aren't actually related," I would say, "but I want them as my family!" These were nice, fun, loving people who all had a good time together. Who wouldn't want to be a part of that?
The problem was that they didn't fit any of my definitions of family, except for my first one which I wrote off as lame. Sure, they were connected to me, but they were not related to me by blood, they did not marry anyone related to me by blood, and the hardest time they had helped me through was deciding what drink to order at the bar. And yet, I felt connected to them.
In trying to make me feel less confused about the whole situation, my mom explained that being family wasn't about how you were blood related, but having a shared history with someone. The only problem? I had no shared history with any of these people, except for the few that I had met at the bridal shower two months before. That hardly seemed like enough to be family, though.
As I continued to talk to them, as they let me dance my crazy-awkward-white-girl-from-maine style with them, as they talked to me about sports, as they hugged me goodbye, and as we promised to see each other again, I understood that family has nothing to do with blood, marriage or relatedness. All it has to do with is sharing love. When I love the same people you love, we are family.
