The Family Curse
Heartbreak, separation and neglect that created a generational pattern: the curse
As a young girl, I was raised in close proximity to my mother’s family. Being first/second-generation Australians, my mum and her sisters upheld quite “traditional values” compared to their non-ethnic counterparts. For me, being the only one with an Aussie-Italian mother meant I missed out on countless fun activities such as the sleepover parties all the girls insisted on having for their 13th birthday. Woe is me, I know.
Besides living with these ‘strict’ rules, I loved growing up with Italian family traditions. My Nonno & Nonna kept the family unit tight; I would see my cousins, aunties and uncles at least once a week. (Writing this down feels irrelevant but it has always surprised me how many people were shocked by this!) This family flourished.
My father’s family, however, did not function in the same regard. They will be the focus of this story.
My nan (my dad’s mum) was born in England during World War II to a mother who never wanted her. My nan’s existence prohibited my great-grandmother from living her social, carefree lifestyle, for which she resented my nan. She made this perfectly clear to her daughter throughout her life causing, what I can only imagine, a great deal of trauma and pain. Daggers buried deep down inside the young woman’s soul, festering into behaviours of survival.
The best way to tell this story is from the beginning.
My great-grandmother met my great-grandfather during one of his time ashore. He was in the English Navy during the war working on submarines. He met and dated my great-grandmother, who fell pregnant, “blaming my dad, and me for being born” my nan recalls.
My great-grandmother’s obvious contempt for her child did not go unnoticed by her family, as her younger brother (who was married) offered to adopt my nan and raise her with his new bride. This was not to be. The family matriarch (my great-great-grandmother) insisted my great-grandmother lie in the bed she had made. Which is all well and good, but I feel for my nan and the pain that was inflicted on her because of this ultimatum.
So my great-grandmother, much to her disgust, was married to my great-grandfather in June of 1941. They never lived together. I bet my great-grandmother thanked her lucky stars for the war and how it allowed them to remain apart.
My nan, however, grew up never once meeting her dad. Her mother refused to talk about him, refused to even take child support from him, upon their divorce 8 years later, to prevent him from ever meeting his child.
When she turned 21, my nan recalls her mother throwing some photos at her and saying “there, this is your father,” as if this made up for his absence in her life. Armed with new information, my nan tried to find her father. Cursed with an extremely common last name, this process was impossible. The wound of not knowing her father, whom I guess she wished would save her from her mother, ate away at her heart.
And with this history in mind, the foundations were laid and birthed the curse onto the our family. It did not make its presence known until my nan had her second child, my father.
My pop and nan share two children together, my eldest uncle & my father. From what I know of my Pop, he seems to be a very gentle, routined man, who would be as stable (perhaps a little boring to the wrong person) as they come in any relationship.
Yearning for her father her whole life, nan must’ve doted on the idea there was someone out there who could love her better, who would suit her better; who would be just like the image of her father she had created in her mind.
She left my pop for another man who took her to Australia, separating her sons from their father, and in turn, unknowingly inflicting the same wounds upon them as she had suffered her whole life.
In Australia, she seemed happy. Her new husband gave her three more sons whom she loved and treasured. Then he died. By this time, all five boys were in various stages of their 20s. For many years, nan remained single, focusing on her boys and the new grandchildren whom they had welcomed into the world. She did have flings, but they never lasted.
Then came husband number three. And for a while she was happy, but then tragedy struck in the cruelest of forms. Two of her sons (number three and four) were taken from her, both within 10 days of each other. Besides herself in grief, things looked as though they couldn’t get much worse. But they did. Her husband took his life, meaning she had lost three of the most important people in her life within two weeks.
Despite what you’re thinking, this is not the curse I have been referring to, though it definitely could’ve been a drop from the same stream.
My family’s curse is this: not accepting the love they receive, questioning if there is someone who can give them more than they currently have.
I first noticed this in my eldest uncle. Out of all of my dad’s family, we are closest to my uncle and his three kids. He was very young when he welcomed his first child into the world, and two more followed within four years. Although he did marry my aunty, it didn’t last long, as he began to hear the curse whisper to him “this isn’t enough for you.”
20 years later and with a few relationships in between, he met and married and lovely lady from Queensland. We were shocked for we thought he would never settle down again. They were so happy. But then they weren’t. He left her for another woman who he said could love him better. Sound familiar?
This curse, caused by generational trauma, has reared its ugly head in every generation, starting with my nan (possibly even my great-grandmother). At least one person from each generation has been cursed with chasing after a version of love that does not exist.
Does this curse affect everyone in the family? No, on the contrary, most of us have found loving, life-long partners, most of whom we’ve been with long-term.
But for those who have been handed the never-in-a-relationship-for-too-long legacy, I wish I knew what deemed them eligible.
