Laughter, Tears and Gumbo

My dad and aunt came to visit recently, and honestly, I thought it was going to be overwhelming. My husband was out of town for work, and I was already stretched thin with four kids and their busy schedules. The timing felt impossible. But to my surprise, those 10 days turned out to be some of the most beautiful and meaningful days I’ve had in a long time.

If you’ve been following my blog, you know my dad and I haven’t always had the best relationship. On top of that, he has Alzheimer’s, so I worried about how we’d connect. But my fears were unnecessary. While it was sad to see the disease slowly taking its toll, he’s still very much himself in many ways. And knowing he has a strong support system back home between my brother, my aunt, and my cousins, gives me peace that he’ll always be surrounded by love and never alone.

Those 10 days were full of good food, endless stories, laughter, and even a few tears. I cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner almost every day, and every evening we sat together at the table. My dad and aunt shared so many stories about their childhood, and I learned things I never knew about my grandparents.

Some of it was hard to hear. I learned about the abuse my grandmother endured from my grandfather—the only grandfather I ever knew. He passed when I was seven, and to me, he was a superhero. Reconciling the man I knew with the painful truth was difficult, but it doesn’t erase the love I felt for him. It just gave me a fuller picture of our family’s history.

I also learned more about my dad’s struggles. I always knew about his drug use, but I had buried those memories deep. My aunt helped me see that it’s okay to face the hard parts of our family story. She reminded me that understanding where we come from—the trauma, the patterns, the “generational curses”—helps us make sense of who we are. Hearing about my dad’s upbringing, the instability, the abuse his mom went through, the bad examples he had. It really helped me understand him in a new way. It doesn’t excuse the hurt his choices caused, but it explains so much.

My aunt also told me things I never knew: how my dad’s older brother first introduced him to cocaine, how his addiction worsened after my mom moved us out of state, and how my aunt herself stepped in to pull him out of the darkest places. She picked him up from the trap house, got him into rehab, and gave him a safe home until he was strong enough to be the best version of himself for my brother and me. Hearing that changed how I see both of them. My aunt has been her brother’s keeper his entire life. His protector, his anchor. And I’m so deeply grateful for her.

These past 10 days brought us closer than I ever imagined possible. I feel like I’ve been given a second chance with my family, a release from old hurts, and a new understanding of who my dad really is. I cried when they left, and I’ve cried again writing this, because for the first time, I feel like I truly know my dad. And while it breaks my heart to think about how Alzheimer’s will continue to change him, I’m grateful for every version of him I’ll get to love along the way.

So here’s to my dad and aunt: thank you for your stories, even the hard ones. Thank you for helping me with the kids. Thank you for the gumbo. Thank you for the new memories. This visit was a gift, and I’ll treasure it forever. I can’t wait until we do it all again next year. I love you both so much.

Thanks for being here. I’m so glad you came.

— From somewhere in the chaos 🌻