This post is dedicated to K and J Semenza—who know more about love than I could ever hope to learn in a lifetime.

I’d like to start by saying that although my big Italian family is full of flaws (as demonstrated in yesterday’s post), it is also filled with enormous love—and no two people better exemplify that than my Uncle K and Aunt J.

Beyond the Ideology Gap

Do they lean to the right like the rest of my conservative family? Yup. Do they hold it against me that I don’t? Absolutely not. They’re also not as hung up on stagnant ideas as some of the others are. Uncle K and Aunt J enjoy a good conversation and can handle opinions that differ from their own. They tend to listen and ask questions, rather than cover their ears and talk over you.

They have traditional values, but in a good way; they don’t ever allow “traditional” to cross the boundary into “closed-minded.”

• The Side-Eye: If Uncle K finds some of my ideas a little too far to the left, the worst he’ll do is give me a good-natured side-eye and a healthy dose of his booming, bass-filled, contagious laughter.
• The Porch Sessions: Aunt J is usually a little more curious about my thoughts, bringing her own interesting perspective and vitality to the conversation. I can spend hours with her on their porch—talking, smoking, and taking in the gorgeous Montana skyline—and never get bored.

Sometimes, I feel as if I have more in common with them than I do with my own parents (who do share my liberal point of view).

The Weight of the World

Uncle K and Aunt J have never had it easy.

• The Labor: Uncle K has worked as a long-haul trucker and a journeyman most of his life. Now, in his sixties, he is still working full-time, and spends his free hours working on the beautiful home he and Aunt J have built. (When he’s not performing compulsory maintenance on his truck.)
• The Struggle: Economically, they have struggled most of their lives—but they made sure that their two gorgeous daughters never wanted for anything.
• The Pain: Aunt J has battled with chronic pain all her life; and yet, she is one of the most positive people you could ever hope to meet. She always bounces back with even more exuberance and enthusiasm than most “normal” folks.

2003: The Living Nightmare

In 2003, however, they faced the worst nightmare that any parent ever has to face: they lost their youngest daughter, C, in an automobile accident. She was hit by a drunk driver and died instantly.

C was one of the kindest, big-hearted, empathetic, immense dreamers I ever knew. She was beautiful—both physically and spiritually—and she was going places. Of all my cousins, she was the one I was closest to. We wrote letters on a bi-monthly basis and had more in common than you could ever hope to have with another family member. Her death was an awful tragedy that shook my entire family to its core.

I will never forget having to call my Aunt J to tell her how sorry I was. I had never heard her so shaken and disconnected. Nor had I ever heard my Uncle K cry. My heart shattered into a million pieces three times that day.

A Conscious Choice

Though they have every right to be angry, resentful, bitter, and reclusive, my Uncle K and Aunt J choose to be the opposite. They are open, forgiving, loving, and kind. Their positivity, devotion to family, and zeal for life isn’t accidental, nor is it naive. It’s a conscious choice—one that they make on a daily basis in the face of genuine heartache and unimaginable pain.

The Family “Switzerland”

Uncle K and Aunt J have also found a way to navigate my ever-turbulent, constantly feuding family in a way that keeps them out of the grudges that have spanned decades. The only people that everyone still talks to are my Uncle K and Aunt J.

Mostly because you can’t resist them. They’re funny as hell, and they can tell a story in a way that just mesmerizes and holds you captive. They prioritize people over petty issues and political ideologies. While my other aunts and uncles are busy storming off in the midst of silly temper tantrums, Uncle K and Aunt J line dance forward with amazing grace and great big, bright smiles on their faces. (They’re amazing dancers. So much fun to watch. 🕺🏻💃🏻)

The Black Sheep Bond

My relationship with my Aunt J is one that I treasure. Sometimes we don’t speak for years, but when we do, we can pick up a conversation right where we left it. We don’t always travel by the same map, but we do share a similar heartbeat. We’re both “black sheep.” We don’t exactly fit into our own immediate families because we value different things than they do.

I feel comfortable talking to her because she doesn’t judge me. She’s able to see me for who I am, rather than for my accomplishments—and that makes all the difference.

I also love talking to Uncle K because we can joke around about our shared family. Sure, we know they’re uptight and flawed; but, we also see them for who they are beyond that—because despite how infuriating they can be, they’re also a bunch of fun-loving bozos with gigantic hearts. (And again, there is nothing I love more than to hear that man’s absolutely fantastic laugh.)

The Lesson

If a 60+ year old couple dealing with economic hardship, debilitating chronic pain, and horrifying loss can remain upbeat, open-minded, and warm, what’s everyone else’s excuse for not being that way?

At the end of the day, Uncle K and Aunt J exemplify who I aspire to be. They keep their front door and kitchen table open to everyone. They welcome you in with great big smiles, and no one gives bear hugs quite like my Uncle K. They’ve realized that life is just too damn short—and they’ve lost too much—to waste a single moment on fighting over being right.

Musical Interlude for Today’s Post: Larry Fleet—“Things I Take For Granted”

I chose this song because it strips away the noise, leaving only the gratitude for the small and steady things—the very things Uncle K and Aunt J have clung to through the storms. It’s a reminder that while the rest of the world (and the rest of our family) is busy “spinning in place,” some people are busy being thankful for the breath in their lungs and the people at their table.