My Unconventional Family Teaches Me the True Meaning of Family
It's a Canadian holiday that occurs during the same weekend as President's Day in the U.S. It was created to give people a chance to spend more time with those they cherish most, and that's exactly what many of us do.
I plan something every year to celebrate it. It's become one of my favourite days of the year, always a blissful time with my two boys and my amazing husband, Mike.
It also always reminds me of the day I learned the true meaning of family.
Right after finishing university, I got married and enrolled in a college to get some more hands-on education. While going to school, I also worked in a group home for adults with mental and physical disabilities.
It was there that I met Terry, a 38 year-old man with Down syndrome. He had the mental capacity of someone around five years old, and one of the biggest hearts of anyone I've ever met.
Unlike many of the other residents, Terry hadn't grown up in facility housing. He'd always lived with his mom and dad, up until they passed away. I could see that the drastic change in lifestyle was difficult for him to adjust to.
We quickly formed a bond. I'd look forward to seeing him every day. We'd often have coffee and donuts together, or dance to club music in the living room, two of Terry's favourite activities. He was funny, caring, and loved the Three Stooges. He was my friend.
Two years flew by. During the week of my college graduation, my first husband and I learned that we were expecting a baby. As the months passed and my delivery date grew closer, I felt both happy and sad. Though thrilled that I would soon be a mother, I knew that once I was on maternity leave, I wouldn't get to see Terry regularly anymore.
Then it hit me. I should just take Terry home to live with me.
I know it sounds crazy, maybe just a result of all the pregnancy hormones. All I knew was it was the right decision.
After countless conversations and a towering stack of paperwork, a 40 year-old, five foot, stocky Ukrainian man with Down syndrome moved into my house.
When Terry first moved in with me, his skills and vocabulary weren't the best. His parents had done pretty much everything for him, and even in the group home it had been largely the same.
I knew that with a baby on the way, I had to start teaching Terry more life skills. It was a slow process, but he was gradually catching on to the basics, day by day. I never felt frustrated, because it just felt right to have his beautiful energy in the house.
When Michael was born, Terry immediately fell in love with him, and affectionately nicknamed him Bugaboo. A funny name that stuck for years.
Michael's first year was wonderful, and Terry was right by his side for everything. To my surprise, Terry was absorbing everything I was teaching Michael.
As the years passed, Michael and Terry became inseparable. They were the very best of friends. And just as Michael's abilities increased, so did Terry's. They learned a lot from each other.
We never really discussed who Terry was in our lives, and Michael never thought to ask. Terry had just always been there, eternal and beloved.
When strangers would ask Michael if he had any siblings, he would respond, "No, but I have a Terry!" It was cute.
Then one day, when we were out getting Michael's haircut, something happened that forever changed the way I thought about family.
While the stylist cut his hair, she asked him questions like, Are you in School? What grade are you in? Do you like your teacher? He confidently answered all her questions with his adorable little voice.
And then she asked him if he had any brothers and sisters.
Michael responded, "Yes I do. I have a brother named Terry and he's forty-five years old!"
"Forty-five!" the hairstylist responded, confused. "Don't you mean four or five years old?"
"Nope, he's forty-five!"
I looked up from the magazine I was reading. I laughed, but as I thought about his answer, I realized the significance of what he'd just said.
On the drive home I asked Michael why he told the hairstylist that Terry was his brother. In a very matter-of-fact way, he said, "Because he is and I love him."
I was dumbfounded by his incredibly profound answer. I drove home speechless, tears rolling down my face.
Without being taught or told, my five year-old had figured out that we were a family.
From that day forward I introduced Terry as Michael's brother. Some of the looks and questions I received over the years were hilarious.
Terry lived with us for over thirteen amazing years. In that time I watched Michael quickly evolve into the role of big brother, even though Terry was forty years his senior. Michael read to him, protected him, cared for him, and watched him grow older. They were truly brothers.
We all miss Terry a lot, but what he brought to our family can never be replaced. He taught us that family doesn't just exist in the DNA. Family is a feeling. Family is love.
Since Terry left us, we continued growing our family unconventionally. Many of Michael's friends have lived in our house at times, and all of them are considered close family members. Though they've left the nest and moved on, they're still in our lives, and still in our hearts.
For Family Day this year, I arranged for my family to celebrate at a new restaurant that had just opened.
To my great surprise, as the afternoon progressed, all the friends who have called our house a home stopped by, one by one, to celebrate this day with us.
As I sat there listening to everyone joke and share stories, I thought about Terry and the gift he brought our family.
I may only have a small family, technically speaking, but in reality it's larger than life and still growing!
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