Estrangement and Home

I have been completely estranged from my family for almost a decade.  And over the past 10 years, the most significant, life-altering changes have occurred in almost every major area of my life.  I finally established residency in one particular location, got married, started a family, and switched careers.  I have built new friendships, let others go, and have tried to devote energy to sustaining the ones that have meant the most to me.  Despite all of these wonderful and positive changes, I can’t help realizing that as I age, I’m longing more and more for home. 

“Home” for me now is in the Southwest USA, but deep down, “home” will always be my childhood home in Canada.  I haven’t been to Canada in more than a decade, and I miss it.  I can still vividly recall my childhood home, my neighborhood, restaurants I used to eat at with friends on Friday nights, and malls I would frequent during back-to-school shopping.  Most likely, they have all experienced numerous changes by now, possibly rendering them unrecognizable to me after so many years, if they exist at all.  And although my childhood memories are complicated, ranging from joyful to excruciatingly difficult, the desire to return home remains the same.

My husband lives in the same neighborhood he was raised in.  In fact, my in-laws only reside a mile away.   He can drive in any direction and show our children where he went to elementary school, where he would stop by for fast food with his friends after school, and the stores he used to shop at as a teenager.  And as for me, try as I might to describe my childhood, my children can only use their imaginations to picture what I am explaining.  I have no pictures, not even a single one.  No way to show my children what I looked like at their age, my best friends, my childhood home, etc.  It’s a casualty from my choice of complete estrangement.

Over the years many well-intentioned people have advised me to bring my children and husband to Canada for a visit.  But every time I think about it, fear and dread start to arise.  As much as I would love to introduce them to my life before they existed, the panic of opening the door to the past with its complicated feelings of guilt, anger, shame, etc. that I have worked so hard to soften over the years becomes too strong.

So instead, I keep foolishly hoping for the feeling of longing to dissipate.  But for some reason, as my estrangement trudges along, the longing seems to persist and grow.  Perhaps one day, I will be brave and finally buy those plane tickets.  But for now, I stay safely in the confines of my new life remembering those years that felt like a lifetime ago.