Both of my parents were married to other people before they came together. In both of these relationships, there were kids. My oldest brother and my sister were the product of the marriage of my mum to Ron, and my second brother was the son of my dad and Roseanne. This all happened years before I was born, so there's a rather large age gap between me and the other three kids.
It's a long, complex story that I won't get into here, but the fact that both of my parents were married to other people before each other created a strange dynamic in our house as far as *I* was concerned. I grew up for the first years of my life referring to Ron as uncle Ron, which I assume was done for the sake of simplicity, knowing a small child would not be able to fully comprehend the relationship he had to my family.
Anyway, Ron would call the house to talk to his kids, and I'd usually get a chance to talk to him. I was maybe 4 or 5 years old when I started to consciously discern the meaning of uncle, and I remember asking whose brother Ron was. I assumed he was dad's brother (because they were both men...I know, the strange notions of babies), but I was told he was not my uncle, that he was the dad of my brother and sister. A blended family; imagine that concept ricocheting around the head of a 5 year old who had never heard of The Brady Bunch. They have a different dad? And my other brother has a different mum? Whoa.
As I got older, I stopped calling Ron "uncle" but I'll still always think of him as uncle Ron. Sadly, Ron passed away in May 2011. Today would have been his birthday. I know my sister misses her dad dearly; I know that because even I miss him, and he and I were virtual strangers to each other the older I got. On a day like this, I wish I could give my brother and sister a great big squeeze, just to let them know that I love them a lot, and I do miss his presence in the unusual family I've been a part of all these years.
The concept of family...
...Wish you were here.
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