The Family We Choose

I was writing in my memory journal and it brought up some very real and important ideas to me. Things I hadn't really thought about, but define me as a person and how I interact with other people. The funny part is, as I continue to study my heritage, my kin has been doing this for a while. I didn't even really know that. I just felt so natural.

I do think that a little introduction is important so that people can understand the back story and how I got to where I am today. When I was young, around 3 or 4, my mother and I sat in JB's waiting for my father to pick me up for my weekend with him. He normally picked me up in the late morning/early afternoon. We went down early to get breakfast and waited. Mid afternoon came and went, and my father was nowhere to be found. I kept telling my mom that he would be there. He never came.

My mom took me home. I was silent during the whole car ride. My eyes burned. I dashes from the car to my room, too afraid to let anyone see me cry. I slammed to door and sat against it and just sobbed. My chest hurt and I felt I couldn't catch my breath. My mom tried to come in; to soothe me and tell me everything was ok. But I wouldn't let her in the room. There was nothing that could soothe that ache. I felt unwanted and unloved.

Eventually, my breathing got under control. But my heart was broken. My eyes were still flooded with tears. I wouldn't leave my room. It is the only time in my life that I cried in my sleep. My mom told me, years later, that she did come in while I slept and held my hand. When I woke up, I was different. I was convinced that my father would not be the only blood relative that would leave me.

Weird thoughts for a kid, but since that time, I have had two families. The family I was born into and the family that I choose. Don't get me wrong, I love my blood kin. My mother is probably the most important person in my world. Yes, that makes me a bit of a Mama's boy. For all the fighting we get into, she gave me my life and I hold her very dear. However, I don't necessarily see eye to eye with my parents. It is a bit ironic, I became the person they raised me to be: independent, forward-thinking, and opinionated. Yet, these same characteristics mean that I am not much interested in the things that they are passionate about.

That is where my other family comes in. Most of the people in this family started out as friends. They have grown into brothers, sisters, parents, uncles/aunts, grandparents, or various untitled members. I have a strong sense of familial affection for these folks and I am fierce loyal and protective towards them. While there are many people that consider, like the picture states, that friends are the family we choose for ourselves. However, for me, the group of people that I consider my family are not merely friends.  Once you have become family, I feel obligated to do what I can to take care of you when you need it (and sometimes when you don't).

I am far from the only person in my family that does this. My mother collects kids, adopting many of my friends, as well as adopting grand kids in the absence of her own. She shared with me that her mother was the same way. We sometimes adopt those that are most in need of family, and I certainly do that as well. In researching my Irish heritage, I came across an interesting meaning/history for my mother's maiden name: Riley. Ó Raghallaigh, which means “grandson of Raghallach.” The name Raghallach is thought to come from a compound of ragh, meaning “race” and ceallach, meaning sociable. I have heard that this trait of adopting new members goes back a ways.

Mortality

I stated keeping a journal recently. Not some diary to keep today’s list of items I accomplished. I suppose I always felt weird writing: “Today I got up and logged in to Facebook. After the cat pictures stopped amusing me, I logged off and showered. After that I headed off to work.” This part of my life is not terribly exciting. I sleep, I go to work, and I go to school. Instead, I have been writing about my memories. Thinking about the people that have been part of my life and remembering how they affected me. Each of them has impacted me and shaped my story. And sometimes, it feels like I have no one that will carry these memories beyond this generation.

Accepting this fact has been a trial. My family line stops at this generation. My uncle never had children and neither have my brother and I. Certainly, there are cousins and such. But their story isn't ours. My cousins may well remember me to their children, but after that who will keep my memory alive? What lasting mark do I leave for the world? Who am I to the future? I don’t want to be an insignificant speck. I don’t want to believe that I lived this life simply to enable me to die.

We carry in us the memory of our parents and our grandparents. These people imparted their memories of the generations before that. We keep these memories alive and pass them from one generation to the next. In part, that is why I am so interested in my family history. I want to be able, even if only for a moment, to hold on to those of my line that came before me and to remember them. That their name will echo into this current time. But there will be no one after me to carry my memory into a future world; to know that I existed, for however long I will be here.

I keep trying to wrap my mind around why the fates played out the way that they did. Of the four children conceived between my mother and my father, I am the only one to survive. Prior to my birth, my older brother, James Bryan, lived to be five and passed away in a tragic accident. Two years later, my mom conceived what we believe were twin and miscarried. Yet, a few weeks later the doctors agree that she miscarried and remained pregnant. My twin and o separated. And a few years later, she miscarried again. Four chances to carry on out family line and the sole survivor is incapable of fathering a child.

Thinking about all of this made me think of the final soliloquy in Blade Runner: "I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time... like tears in rain…" There are things that I have done, places I have seen, and felt that are so personal and so unique that no one else has that exact memory. And I am frustrated that there is no one to carry these for me beyond my death.

Of course, it isn't just about me. I hold the memories of my parents in me as well as the memories of my brother. After I pass, there is no one to hold their memories either. My grandmother and grandfather Matross have my wonderful cousins to carry their memories. But, even those are diluted by time and distance. They didn't get to spend the same amount of time with them as I did. And my father Wayne, who contributed half of the material to make me, he has no one in his family to carry his memory after I am gone.

I know that I have my friends to remember me. But most of them are of a similar age as me. We are likely to pass at a similar age together. And I feel weird about asking them to have their children carry my memory. Who am I to them, aside from some strange friend of their parents’? Without the familial bond, there is no need for these children to pass it on beyond them.

I suppose that is why I write, hoping that something that I put down on paper or float out into the internet will become my legacy. That it will be the seed of my memory that will someday cause a man or woman to say, “Who was William Cody Matross?” And in that question, bring my memory forward from now to exist in that time. That this question will prompt them to research me and find out about my parents and my brother, what my life was like, what were my passions. And I suppose I write to give them bread crumbs to figuring out what I was and that I here. That I lived and loved and I made a difference in people’s lives. And that those before me existed and that they form a long line stretching back to the beginning of time. I suppose I write, not for the people of this age, but for those that will come after us.

It's 2013?

Where has the time gone?

I haven't posted since September. So many things have happened since then. I finished my first semester of school and I fear that it may have been deceptively easy. I did finish the semester with a 4.0. And I did continue this through Winter Session as well. Though this has only made me want to push harder to keep my grades up.

One of my classes this last semester was Irish 101. Learning Gaeilge, or Irish Gaelic as many people call it stirred something inside me. I knew growing up that my mother was a second-generation Irish American. But beyond knowing that she was a Riley from Butte, I really didn't know anything more about my family or what it meant to be an Irish American.

Now, I don't want it to sound like learning enough Gaeilge to converse with a five year old has suddenly given me great insights to what it means to be an Irish American. I knew going into school that I would be getting a minor in Irish Studies and wanted to study over in Ireland. And learning the language has fueled my passion.

An added benefit of being in the program is that my mother's cousin and her husband are close friends with the director of the program. Because of their relationship, I was able to meet these two members of my family. Suzie, my mother's cousin has been the keeper of the family genealogy. She was nice enough to put together a packet of information with stories and pictures of my Irish family back to when they came to Butte from Co. Cork.

This also got me wondering where I came from and as such I reached out to my bio-dad. His last name, before he was adopted by an aunt and uncle, was Ferry. When I originally tried to study my father's genealogy, I thought that he was of English descent. I was quite wrong. The Ferry's originally came from Co. Cavan in Ireland.

Between these two discoveries, I decided to start doing some digging on Ancestry.com. I found information back to my great-great-grandparents for my mother, father and step-father. It has been amazing and I look forward to find out more along my journey. 

Part of the reason I haven't been posting here has been due to my work with the Irish Studies program. I am currently managing the social media sites for the program and working on launching a blog for the program. I am balancing this with my normal class load and work. The sacrifice has been time spent with my family and friends. But I know that they understand.

Tomorrow begins a new semester. I think I have my work cut out for me and I hope I am up for the challenge. I need to keep my grades up in order to ensure that I have an opportunity to study in Ireland.My hours at work have been scaled back to give me a chance to succeed.

I will post when I can.