I thought of it when I was having a conversation with my brother. Although our home life was undoubtedly harmonious, there are things we both recognize we have to contend with as adults. Everyone, whether their home life was good or not, feels there are deficiencies in their childhood. There is no fault associated with this feeling; our parents raised us with love and care. It is our different personalities wanting additional emotional reinforcements from our parents or at least from our siblings. I wish they had hugged me more, I wish they had talked to me more, etc....
Scott was asked interesting question recently. He was asked about the women in his life and how he felt about them. He immediately thought of our grandmother Memum and how independent and strong she was. Our grandfather died when she was 40 and she never dated again. He was the only man for her. And she began an independent life, working full time and getting her own place. Now at 95, she is an exemplary matriarch for our family. But the follow-up question to Scott's Memum answer was: But did you love her?
Did you love her? I began to think about this question. Did I love her? Seems so silly, of course I loved her, she is my Grandmother. But admiration is different than love. I have thought many times about how siblings, raised by the same parents and in the same house even, have such a different experience and memories. Not better or worse simply different.
